Within the Darkness
by tracer2032
Summary: My 1st fic. Sam and Dean see Terrabone as just another job, but when unfortunate circumstances hit the brothers, will they be able to overcome. Lots of DeanSam angst. Please R
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Sam sat rigid in the bed, every muscle tense, his blue t-shirt dampened with sweat, trying desparately to catch his breath, but more importantly not wake Dean. Sam loved his brother, but he was getting tired of the whole "Sam did you have another nitemare" routine. The same questions pouring from his brother's mouth with the same worried glance. One would think that after 6 months of repitition his brother could come up with some new material, or at the very least a new approach. Dean knew his answers, they never changed. Sam didnt know what angred him more, Dean's constant pushing or the fact that he couldnt control this thing.

Sam turned his head to catch a glimpse of the clock. _3:30. Fantastic, i didnt even get 4 hours._ Sam sighed, his head hurt. That wasn't a new occurance, it hurt all the time now. He could barely focus on the news clippings, search results, or think clearly for that matter. Dean's comments about him focusing were getting all the more frequent. Yet another thing that Dean did to piss him off.

Sam started rubbing his temples, his tired fingers moving circular over the bone.  
_Relief_ The only thought that managed to push through the haze. Sam smirked. It wasnt like the pills did anything anyway. They only served as a method of control. At least he could determine when he took them, how many, and what he took them with. It wasnt a big thing, but it was something only HE could decide, not Dean.

Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet hitting the coarse carpet. As he stood up, he swayed a little, grasping the nite stand for support. He shot a glance over as his sleeping brother shifted. _Please, God, dont let him wake up_ Getting his balance he moved sleathily toward the bathroom, closing the door behind him. _At least all that hunting was good for something_ He reached over and flicked the switch. Bad move. The dull flureoscents radiated brighter than the sun, each flick piercing. Sam drew his left arm up across his face shielding the light and let a moan escape from his lips. _Where are those pills_

-------

Dean shifted, his eyes slightly opening. Sam's sleeping habits, or lack thereof, were beginning to affect him. He rolled over to take check on sam in the twin across from him--the empty twin. Dean shot up instantly awake. "Sam." he whispered, "Sam!" Panic was starting to set in. "SAM!" Then he saw it, a stream of light pouring onto the floor from under the bathroom door. Dean sighed, releasing a breath he hadnt realized he had been holding the whole time. He got up and knocked on the door, just to make sure. "Sammy you in there?" No answer. He knocked again. Still no reply. _okay, if that's the way you want it man. _Dean threw the door open, silently hoping to catch sammy doing something that would yield years of teasing. But not tonite. 

Dean stopped cold. His breathing growing rapid. His mind taking in the scene in pieces...

Water.  
Glass.  
Pills.   
Blood.  
**Sam.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It took everything inside himself, to keep him from losing it. Sam was laying there on the floor, a stream of blood running from head. Dried blood. He'd been there a while. _Congratulations, Dean, you've won brother of the year_ Dean was about to begin a serious round of kicking himself when a thought hit him. _Is he breathing?_

Dean knelt down beside his brother and leaned in. The breathing was heavy but consistent. _Good, good._ Dean pulled Sam in towards him caressing his baby brother's head. "Sammy, wake up. C'mon man." It was more of a whimpered request than a demand. Dean's eyes scanned the room, willing his mind to put the missing pieces together. Tylenol, blood on the sink...Slowly the scene played itself out before him. _Why didnt i wake up? He was only like 10 feet away? i should have heard something_

Dean tried again to get Sam to open his eyes. "Sam wake up!" this time his voice was strong and loud. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Tears started to form in Dean's eyes but he brushed them away before they fell. Shifting his weight, he tried to get in a position to lift Sam. He brought his hand under Sam's neck to support him, and started to reach for his legs when he stumbled. Dean heard Sam's head crack on the hard tile floor and cursed. When did Sam get so heavy? 15 minutes later, Sam was tucked into bed.

Dean Winchester was not the kind of person to sit there and wait for something to happen. He was a man of action, and if he were to be completely honest, the idea of waiting terrified him. So, he set to work cleaning up the blood and glass, and when that was finished, he grabbed his father's journal, opened the laptop and turned his attention to the reason they were here in Terrabone. Work was something he could handle.

-----

Sam winced and opened his eyes, at least he thought he did. "Sammy, you up? You ok?" Sam smiled slowly hearing Dean's voice racked with relief over the constant clicking of the computer keys.

"Yeah, Dean, my head hurts but I'm ok" he sighed.

"Good, cause I was getting reading to call someone. I thought about it last nite but then I remembered we were a little low on cash and..."

Sam laid there listening to his older brother ramble. He did that sometimes when he was worried or nervous. Dean always liked to talk. He sat up slowly, his head throbbing.

"...and then I found you and you weren't moving so..."

"Dean what time is it?" Sam interrupted. Dean stopped and gave his brother a funny look.

"What's the matter bro? Cant turn your head to see the clock? Which is right next..."

"Could you just answer the question?" Sam snapped, cutting Dean off again. Instantly kicking himself, but something wasnt right.

"Fine! Dude, what's your problem?" Dean shot back, his voice tinged with anger. He was getting tired of Sam interrupting him. Taking a deep breath he shot a glance at the clock. "9 in the morning Sam. Satisfied?"

"Nine? I know you like the dark, man, but one would think you'd have turned on the lights by now!" Sam said jokingly. Dean stopped typing and slowly peeled his eyes from the computer screen.

"What are you talking about Sam?" Dean spoke slowly, concern seeping into his voice. "The lights are on."

Dean's words hit Sam like a ton of bricks. _The lights are on...But it's so dark...the lights.._

"DEAN, DEAN!" Sam screamed panic hanging onto every word, revelation hitting him. Dean ran to the bed, and Sam could feel his strong hands grasping his shoulder.

"Sammy, what is it, what's wrong. Is it your head? Do i need to take you to the hospital?" Sam turned toward the hand and brought his head up, his empty eyes meeting Dean's terror stricken ones. Dean jerked back, sinking onto the neighbooring bed. Fear gripping his heart.

"Dean, are you there?" Sam asked franctically, realizing his brother's once tight grip no longer existed. "Dean," Sam's voice gaining pitch and full of fear continued "I dont think...I...Dean, i cant see!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

Dean cringed as Sam rammed his knee on the bathroom door. He had forgotten to close it again and he cursed under his breath because he knew better. Sam yelped in pain and tried to regain his balance failing miserably as he connected with the chair. "_At least I found it"_

"Dude, why don't you use that stick thing the doctor gave you?" Dean ventured, checking his tone, so as not to sound like he was talking down to his little brother.

"Because," Sam stated as he worked on easing himself in the chair, " A) I don't want to and B) the guy said it would be temporary."

"Yeah, but temporary doesn't necessarily mean soon, and well, you keep hitting things."

"Don't you think I know that Dean? I'm not an idiot!" Sam shot back, his words filled with disdain. He was way past being afraid of the constant black veil that surrounded him. The only thing raging through him now was anger. Pure, raw, unchecked anger. Dean already thought of him as a little kid needing his protection 24-7 anyway. Now, he was proving Dean right. He was completely helpless and totally reliant on him. He couldn't do anything for himself anymore. Dean was laying out his clothes for God's sake. Yeah, the first couple of days he tried, but had only failed miserably at every attempt. So what was the point? Even when he was trying to eat, Dean was unwrapping the plastic silverware and positioning it in his right hand, all the while laying out his food and drink and revealing their location by grabbing his left hand and forcing it to make contact with each item before him. It didn't matter how many times Dean showed him, he still managed to spill something. He had already ruined 3 perfectly good hamburgers, as his brother had put it. _Why can't he just leave me alone?_

Dean sat quietly watching his little brother struggling to get comfortable in the hard wooden chair, his brow furrowed as though in deep thought. He would've hit Sam for that comment, if the situation had been anything but this. Dean sighed, he knew Sam would sit in that chair all day before he would admit he needed help to find whatever he was looking for. It amazed him that Sam was the one refusing to talk about the whole situation, and that he was the one desperately trying to communicate. After the first couple of days, Dean had simply given up trying to talk with Sam. He forced himself to focus entirely on helping him with everyday things--like getting dressed, eating, and getting Sam into the shower, but every time Sam put up a hell of a fight, angered that Dean would dare to treat him like a child. _I'm sorry, Sammy,_ _I can't help it. It's all my fault. God, this is all my fault. _Dean turned his attention back to research. Not that it mattered anymore, he had lost all desire to work. It's not like the spirit would be leaving the parish anytime soon. So what if his dad got pissed? He wasn't the one putting up with Sam's blindness, not to mention his current ungrateful attitude.

The room had been silent for over an hour, with the exception of the crinkling of pages turning. Sam tensed. He hated that his brother was reading. He was the one who did the research, not Dean. That was his job. _Not anymore._ The thought did nothing but infuriate him more. _He's probably just reading those stupid "How to Cope" pamphlets again._ Sam could have sworn Dean had read those at least 50 times since they had left the hospital. He didn't care if he read them or not, but the fact that Dean kept referencing them every time Sam couldn't find something or stopped cold trying to get a grasp on his location really pissed him off. "_It says here you should get a good layout of the room, Sammy, let me take you through the room again so next time you won't hit that again." _Or _"I think you're supposed to do it this way. Yeah, see, you get a better feel for it and you won't drop it." _ Sam's personal favorite was _"This book says that classes are a good thing and lists a few, maybe we could crash one tomorrow nite." _ Sam never thought there'd be a day when his brother would suggest going to a class—of any kind. 

The silence was getting to Dean, he needed noise of some kind. He thought about grabbing the keys and sitting in his baby for a while just listening to some Metallica, but opted not to since that would require him to leave Sam alone and he couldn't do that. Instead, he decided to attempt a conversation. Within minutes, he wished he hadn't.

"So, Sammy, is your head still hurting, or what?" Dean waited for a reply, but none came. Sam just sat there motionless. Not even flinching at the sound of his name. Dean tried again. "Uh…so you hungry? I was thinking of maybe getting something different tonite. You know, whatever you want. I'm kind of getting sick of burgers. We could go out if you want." _Since we haven't left this room in over 3 days._

"Really, well, in that case, how about a five course meal?" Sam posed haughtily, "Yeah, Dean, you can take me to a really nice restaurant and publicly humiliate me by reading the menu for me and cutting my steak up in little pieces. What do you say, bro. Yeah, sounds like a whole lot of fun to me too."

Dean willed himself to stay seated, every fiber in his body wanted to grab Sam, throw to the floor, and beat the crap out of him. But pity and regret soon overtook him.

"Look, Sam, I didn't mean to…." _What am I trying to say again? _"I'll just call in a pizza, Okay? Supreme, right, no mushrooms?"

"I don't want pizza." Dean laughed to himself. Sam kept saying he was adult, but here he was whining like a 5 year old.

"Yeah, well, too bad." Dean shot back, he didn't take lip from anyone, especially Sammy.

"Why do you have to be such a jerk?"

"I'm being a jerk?" Dean paused, biting his tongue _Why is Sam pushing, he knows my temper._ "All I'm trying to do is help you Sam, but you just can't let me do that, can you?"

"I don't need your help." The reply was sharp, it's blade ripping Dean's heart.

"Yea, you do Sammy." Tears were beginning to form in his eyes, and he quickly brushed them away. He didn't know why, it's not like Sam could see him cry anyway.

Sam could hear the sadness in his brother's voice, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to hurt Dean, like he had been hurt. He knew how to do it too.

"Oh, really? Well, I wouldn't even be in this mess if you hadn't dropped me!"

Dean couldn't move, his mind reeling. He knew that Sam would use that eventually, but he hadn't prepared himself for the delivery. His brother voice was full of resentment and hatred. _I really am ruining his life._

"Aren't you gonna say something?" Sam taunted "Don't tell me for once in his life the great Dean Winchester is at a loss for words."

Sam waited anxiously for his brother's reply. He craved a fight. He needed a fight, and he knew Dean would give it to him. _C'mon Dean just do it. Scream at me, hit me, just do something!_

Dean's silence was beginning to frighten Sam. His spine tingled with anticipation, he was beginning to wish he could see his brother's face. _C'mon Dean say something._

But Dean didn't say anything, the only other sound that Sam heard from Dean that night was the jingling of car keys and the slam of the hotel door.


	4. Chapter 4

Before beginning this chapter I would like to give a special thank-you to my friend Jessie for helping me brainstorm and work through this chapter as well as the next one. Chapter 4 

_Why am I letting this get to me? He's just upset, and scared. Wait, why am I defending him? He's a selfish jerk. All I've done is look out for him and take care of him and this is the thanks I get. No freakin' way, I'm not taking his crap any more. If he really thinks he can do this on his own, well, then, I'm gonna let him. Ha! He probably won't make it a day, and then he'll **have** to crawl back to me for help. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Sammy boy? _

"You wanna another?"

Dean shook his head, as if the movement could erase his thoughts and clear his mind. "What?" It was the only word that came to him through the haze.

"I said, do you want another?" Dean brought his head up and locked eyes with the older man behind the bar.

"Sure, why not?" It had been four hours since Dean had stormed out of the hotel room leaving Sam to fend for himself. He had just drove around for the first couple with no direction, he was pretty sure he had seen the entire parish by now. Eventually, he had spotted a bar—Catastrophe, the sign had read. _Well, how's that for irony. _The bar was geared toward the younger crowd, and the name pretty much summed up the atmosphere. The walls were all different colors covered with vodka induced scribbling, the tables and chairs scattered all over, there was no order here, no sense of direction or purpose, it was just, for lack of a better word, a mess. The mood fit Dean's perfectly.

He really hadn't intended to drink as much as he did, but the bartender kept offering and he couldn't refuse. Usually the more he drank the better he felt, but tonight was different. Every empty bottle served as a reminder of how pathetic his life truly was. _Pathetic._ _That was Sam's word._

Dean was about to revert back to his previous spaced out state of self-pity when he heard his phone ring. Reaching for his cell, he couldn't help but smirk. _Sam didn't even make it through the night._ He flipped open the phone without even gazing at the caller id.

"Have something you wanna say to me?"

"You bet I do!" Dean froze. He recognized that voice on the other end and it definitely didn't belong to his kid brother. Despite the 7 beers he had downed, Dean was suddenly fully aware of the situation and the angry tone that encompassed his father's reply further served to jolt him back to reality.

"Dad? Is that you?" He wasn't sure why he asked, he knew his father voice. It's just that for that past 6 months it had been nothing but text messages, no vocal communication whatsoever except for that one call, and he had only gotten at the very least a minute of conversation in because Sam wouldn't give him the phone. Dean could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his baby brother was fighting dirty. "Sam called you, didn't he? I'm gonna kill him!"

"You are going to do no such thing, young man. You hear me, you lay a hand on that boy and I'm gonna give you a beating you ain't never gonna forget!"

"Yeah, you'd have to find me first." The words flew out of Dean's mouth so fast it didn't even register that he had said them until he heard his father's heavy breathing.

John's patience was running thin. As if it weren't enough that his oldest son who he had trusted to carry on the family business while he was away had shirked on his responsibility and had made little or no progress concerning the spirit he had sent him to destroy. He had sent Dean those coordinates weeks ago. But now Dean had gone and left Sam, his baby, alone, blind and alone, without even calling to check up on him. John had been in the middle of an interview when he had gotten Sam's message, although he couldn't understand half of it, the boy was crying and mumbling through the whole thing. But the part he did catch was that Dean had walked out and Sam was blaming himself for it as he always did.

"Son.." Dean cringed, he knew what was coming and mentally prepared himself to hear the lecture of the century. That's why the next thing his father said took him by surprise. "What is taking you so long in Terrabone?"

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, his voice shaking as he tried to control his temper.

"I mean, I gave you those coordinates weeks ago and you still haven't taken care of that spirit. This was a simple assignment, Dean. A novice hunter could take this thing out. You shouldn't even need Sammy's help on this one. It wasn't like I gave you a poltergeist."

Dean took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. His father wasn't just implying that he didn't know how to do his job but that he was incapable of handling an assignment on his own without screwing it up.

"Yeah, well, I've had a lot of other stuff to take care of." Dean's response was weak and John picked up on that. Dean never could defy him, at least he hadn't yet.

"I'm assuming you're referring to your currently blind little brother who you left alone in a hotel room. Dean, what are were you thinking?" John's reply was a mix of anger and disappointment.

Dean knew what his father was trying to do. John pulled that same routine every time Sam got hurt on his watch. One thing his father was good at was making him feel guilty. _Not this time, old man._

"What are you thinking Dad? Huh? If you are so worried about your little boy, why don't you come and see him?" Dean was screaming into the receiver now, out of the corner of his eye he caught the puzzled looks on the other customer's faces as they just sat and stared at him. He was just going to ignore them, until he glanced toward the bartender and saw the irritated look on his face_. Okay, I get it! _ He grabbed thirty dollars out of his wallet, and slammed it down on the wooden counter. Then turned and walked out, letting the door slam behind him, all the while waiting for his father's reply. He wasn't scared anymore of the impending response, if anything the liquor was now serving as the backbone he had never had.

John couldn't believe his ears. Never had Dean spoken to him with such indignation or so authoritatively. _When did Dean decide it was his right to question me? _

"Dean, I need you to finish the job. There's more evil out there that you need to take care of."

"No."

"What did you say?"

"I said no. What, Dad, not what you wanted to hear?" Dean scoffed.

"Are you refusing a direct order?" John stated, his tone had dropped a couple octaves and he paused slightly after each word.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am. I'm twenty-six, not ten—an adult. You can't strong arm me into doing everything you want anymore!" Dean paused taking a deep breath. _God, I sound like Sam. Oh, no, Sam. Why'd I leave him? Why does my family have to be so screwed up?_

"An adult, huh? Wouldn't know it to look at you, you still act like an immature child. Let me tell you something boy, you will not test me! You hear me? When I give you an order you are to do it!" John was yelling now, he was done screwing around. His son needed to know he wasn't in charge, Dad was, and he would have a fight on his hands if he tried to yank his authority out from under him.

"Yes sir, whatever you say sir!" Dean spat the words out, he had mimicked the trademark phrase perfectly, after all, he was his dad's little soldier.

Dean didn't wait for a reply, he closed his phone, got into his car and began the long drive back to the hotel, back to Sam.


	5. Chapter 5

Again, I would like to thank mi amiga Jessie for helping me brainstorm and thanks to everyone who posted reviews they are appreciated. Okay so here's the next chapter.

Chapter 5

Sam felt like he had been sitting in that God-forsaken chair for an eternity. The silence didn't help either. After Dean had left he had tried to keep track of time, a crappy way to entertain himself. Since he couldn't see the clock, he had resorted to counting the seconds and then totaling the minutes and hours in his head. Somehow he always managed to space off, his mind drifting back to the horrible last moments he had spent yelling at his brother. _This isn't going to work._

Sam racked his brain for something, anything to distract him. He decided that the TV was his best option. This he thought would kill two birds with one stone. He could use it for referencing the time, and it would provide a steady output of sound. However, that idea presented him with the difficult challenge of actually finding the remote, yet another simple every day thing that yielded a gigantic problem--in his mind anyway. He thought about just finding the TV and sitting in front of it, hitting the buttons, but decided against it when his phone rang. _Where did I put it a minute ago? The coffee table!_

Sam got up as quickly as he could; he knew the table was close. _Closer than I thought, _Sam yelped as he swung his guiding hand into the wood. The ringing stopped. _All that pain for nothing_. Sam was about to turn around and get back to his chair where he was safe, when the phone sounded again. _What the…?_

Sam swept his hand gingerly across the table top, his hand brushing the computer and Dean's scattered array of papers. His hand hit something small, and running his fingers around the edges, realized he'd found it. _Finally. _He ran his hands along until he found the keys. _Leave it to me to have the most complicated phone on the planet. _A great sense of accomplishment washed over Sam as he hit the answer button, followed by a wave of apprehension.

"Sammy, hey, man, I'm on my way back. Should be there in an hour or so."

Before Sammy could reply, he heard the deafening click. Sam stood stock-still. _Why didn't he just leave a message? _Sam knew the answer to that question and it frightened him. _He wanted to make sure I knew he was coming. _Sam was slightly thankful his brother had given him the heads up. At least now he could prepare himself for the beating to come. _He didn't sound angry. Maybe he doesn't know I called Dad. Yeah, Dad never returns our messages. _

Sam knew that wasn't true. There was no way in hell his father would let Dean off the hook for what'd he'd done. _He's gonna kill me. Ugh, why did I do that?_ Sam sighed, he did it 'cause he was scared. All he wanted was a fight, an outlet to vent his pent-up anger, but he had bitten off far more than he could chew. He had pushed Dean too far, and his older brother had walked out without a word and just left him. _Not like I didn't deserve it._ But still his brother had issued a low blow, and seeing as how Sam was already upset, it was nothing for him to kick his brother when he was already down. The truth was, he really wasn't too sorry for doing it either. _What's really gonna suck is that I won't even see the first blow coming. Or the next for that matter._

Sam set the phone back down on the table, the movement causing him to come into contact with another item. Sam knew what it was the moment he touched it, he could feel the creases in the worn leather and the uneven edges of the old pages. He smiled, _Dad's journal._

Grasping the book, he began trying to find his way back to the chair. He took a wrong step somewhere and ended up with his face in a pile of messed up sheets. _At least it wasn't the floor_. He worked to position himself comfortably on the bed, and when he was settled, cracked open his father's most prized possession and began flipping through it. He turned each page slowly as he ran his fingers along the pen impressions and drawings, trying desperately to crack the code and force the images to appear in his head. It wasn't working, and Sam was getting frustrated. _How many times have I stared at this freakin' book? I should be able to do this!_

----------------------

Dean tried to focus on the road. He had managed to cool down enough to call Sammy._ more like warn him_. Dean smirked, he could just picture his little brother getting all worked up waiting for him. _He's probably armed, I would be._ Dean reached to find another tape, and noticed that he needed gas. He took the next exit and pulled into the station.

As he got out of the car, he couldn't help but notice the women on the other side struggling to get the machine to read her credit card. Her light brown hair shone in the afternoon sun, her red and blonde highlights accenting her piercing sky blue eyes perfectly. She was tall, almost as tall as him and appeared to be around his age. She turned her head towards him and smiled. _God, she's beautiful. _Dean smiled back and then quickly averted his gaze kicking himself for not saying anything. He didn't know why he didn't, he normally would. But he didn't have the time to flirt, he had an ass-whooping to take care of. _Sammy's gonna pay big time for this one!_

_He's cute. _Jessie thought, the smile creeping back onto her face. She found herself giving him the once over, paying particular attention to his left hand. _Single and hot, what more could a girl want? _Jessie knew she could have him if she wanted, she always got what she wanted, not because she was a rich spoiled brat, but she was simply "gifted" as her mother would say.

Jessie and her mother had moved to the parish when she was thirteen years old. Her mother had found a small plantation home that had been abandoned for decades and since the historical society had opted not to restore, the house provided a cheap buy. Jessie loved that house, absolutely everything about it--the chipped white wooden exterior, the red door, the long ornate halls, the narrow windows found in every room that caused the morning sunlight to dance on the walls. But thing Jessie loved most about the house was the stories that surrounded it. She clung to every word that the natives of the area would tell her about the former owners of her new house, of witches, murders, and ghosts. Their stories were more than just legend to Jessie, they were a history, a window into a past she longed to know.

Out of all of them, the legend of Lady Toliver had captivated her the most. It seemed no one in town really knew what had happened to her. Some said she was a witch and her evil magic had gotten the best of her, others that she had hung herself and others still that Sir Toliver had killed her, and hidden her body in the attic. Jessie's avid curiosity was one thing her mother loved most about her daughter, but when Jessie had started keeping library books, asking the library to make copies for her, and bugging every neighbor and resident of the parish she came in contact with, her mother had had enough.

Jessie couldn't explain it with words, when she tried it never came out right. It was more of a feeling she had, Lady Toliver was still in the house. She knew it, and her mom's feeble attempts to deter her progress only served to strengthen her efforts. One of the books had said that if the person was murdered brutually, their spirit could continue to reside and haunt the very place of the horrible act. So, late at night, when she was sure her mother was asleep, she would climb up into the attic and try to talk to the former lady of the house. She talked about everything, school, her mom, her search, the legends that people told her, her father. Thought she never heard a reply, she felt the lady's presence and that was enough to satisfy.

Jessie's mother had managed to catch her after 4 consecutive weeks of her nightly ritual. Jessie was furious when her mother had bought a lock for the attic and told her she never wanted to see anything pertaining to Lady Toliver in her house again. So Jessie started to go and sit by the attic door during the night and continue to talk through the door—just to spite her. Jessie often found herself staring at the lock and wishing it would just break, and one fateful night it did. The hard metal simply twisted and snapped loudly. Jessie was confused, she hadn't touched it. At first she thought the Lady had done it, but as time went on she soon discovered that that Lady had done more just listened to her rambling, she had rewarded her for it. From that time on, with only one thought, one desire, Jessie could change the outcome of any situation, the thoughts and actions of any man.

------------------------

Dean snapped the gas tank closed, and started to grab his keys from his jacket, when a hand softly grazed his shoulder. He turned slowly, and noticed the women he had drooled over moments before less than a foot away.

"Hi, my name's Jessie." her voice was gentle, and had a certain sweetness about it that Dean had never heard before.

"I'm Dean" he replied quickly.

"Nice to meet you, Dean. Where are you headed?"

"Back to the hotel to pack." Jessie was taken back by the bluntness of his statement. _Is this his idea of hard-to-get. No, something's bothering him. I bet I can take it off his mind._

"Do you want a get a drink before you leave? I know a great pla—"

"Thanks, but, no. My brother's waiting for me." Dean opened the car door and started to get in. _Oh, Sammy, you are so dead, man. _

Jessie was getting tired of Dean's "game". _Okay, what's his problem? He was clearly interested two minutes ago. I guess I'm just gonna have to convince him. **You're thirsty and tired, Dean, you're brother can wait.**_

Jessie smiled as Dean cocked his head. "On second thought, my brother can wait. I haven't had a good drink in a while. Especially one with a hot girl."

Before long, Dean was sitting in the passenger side of Jessie's mustang staring at her, she had suggested it would be easier than him simply following her would. Dean silent hoped that the night wouldn't just end with a drink, and he knew it wouldn't. Excitement grabbed him, he never had scored with a chic like her. He had a nagging feeling there was something he was supposed to be doing, something important, but he couldn't recall it right away, so he just quit trying and went back to staring at the beauty to his right. All thoughts of Sam had faded into oblivion, the only clear thing now was Jessie. She had penetrated every piece of his mind making every other thing see pointless and unimportant.

Jessie broke her attention from the road, turning her eyes toward the tan, chiseled face of the man before her and met his gaze. _I have you right where I want you. We are going to have the night of our dreams, Dean, I promise you that._

-------------------------

Sam sighed. His head was starting to hurt. He had flipped through his dad's journal ten times, rotating or flipping it each time because he couldn't tell if he had it the right way or not. The routine didn't help. He still couldn't interpret the scribbles or sketches. _Where's Dean?_ Sam tried not to panic as the thought hit him. He realized he couldn't be sure, if an hour had passed, his sense of time sucked at the moment and couldn't be trusted. But still.

He stretched out his arm to find the nightstand and set his father's journal down. He started letting his mind wander, he thought about Jess and what she looked liked. He smiled, he could still see her in his mind. _She'd always had the best smile._

The image of the girl he lost disappeared rapidly, and Sam found himself outside an old wooden house. He had fallen asleep.

The chipped white paint was tainted by water damage and covered with ivy. The red door before him challenging him to enter, and before he could reach to open it, it flung wide and a voice escaped from it's now looming chasm.

"Where were you Sammy?" Sam felt his throat tighten and a sickening feeling crept into his stomach.

"D-dean?" Sam ventured, his voice shaky, as entered the house cautiously. As he turned down the first corridor, his sneakers slipped on something wet, and he threw his hand out to catch himself. _All that hunting training for nothing. _His mind assured him it was only water, until he brought his hand to his face and his eyes saw red. Blood, fresh blood. "DEAN!" His knees buckled and he reached out intending to use the wall to brace himself, until he was met with a flood of red dripping in streams down the wall. Sam lurched, he could feel his stomach betraying him. He turned to break free of the image before him, but only to be met with it again as the opposite wall once white, was now stained red. Sam was running now his feet slipping as the once wooden halls became seas of red. He had to get out. And then he saw it, a door. His breathing slowed, and he reached his escape only to be jarred from hope by what was laid before him. There was his brother laying in a sea of red, and a women over him slashing what was left of his brother's once strong, but now mutilated body. Sam stared at his brother's face. His eyes, once so alive, were dull but seemed to pierce through Sam still. "Why didn't you save me Sam?"

"DEAN! DEAN! YOU ANSWER ME! DEAN!" Tears poured down Sam's face as the frantic screams escaped his lips. Nothing. Just the darkness and silence Sam had learned to loathe over the last few days. He couldn't let his brother die, he wouldn't let him die. _Why did I fall asleep? _The thought brought fresh tears, and Sam raised a shaking hand to brush them away.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanx again to everyone who R&R and also a special thanx to Jessie 

Chapter 6

Sam knew what he had to do, but he doubted his ability to do it. It was morning now; he could feel the heat of the sun pouring in from the hotel window. _Where's Dean?_ Sam tried not to let his fear get the best of him. He forced himself to think, rationalize, and formulate a plan._ On a normal day maybe, but today, now….no, think, c'mon….this is Dean, I can't leave him to die. I have to save him. He needs me. _With that thought, Sam stretched out his right arm, his hand trembling as he ran it over the edge of the bed. He shifted towards the edge and extended his hand upward, waving it around to ensure that a wall wasn't waiting for him. He'd already made that mistake before. Confident that the area was safe, he swung his legs over the side of the bed—_Now where's my stuff?_

-----------------------

A smile crept unto Dean's face as the cold water poured freely from the showerhead. He was sure that last night was one of the best nights of his entire life. At it's start all he could think about was scoring, but as the drinks started pouring and he began to let his guard down, he found himself fully enveloped in Jessie—the person. She was so open with him and her openness had driven him to say things he would never tell Sam much less to a stranger. Dean struggled to remember a time when he had been that honest or open, but it wasn't there. He'd always thought that no one really wanted to hear his ideas or views on life, he'd tried in the past, but always felt like he was shot down or ignored. Of course he would never reveal that_. Everyone always thinks that Sam's the smart one—he is the college boy._ Dean still wasn't sure how his little brother had ended up that smart either. Book smarts just wasn't something the Winchester men were known for. He relished the fact that he could just lay it out there with Jessie and she would just sit there and listen attentively, hanging on to every word. _I can't believe a girl like that… _A knock on the door halted Dean's thoughts.

"Hey, what you doing in there?" Jessie asked innocently.

"Well, I'm having trouble finding the shampoo. Maybe you'd like to help me." Dean laughed. Jessie couldn't help but laugh with him wondering how many times he'd used that line before as she opened the bathroom door.

-------------------------------

"Ow." Sam whimpered as he ran into the bathroom door for the third time. _This isn't going to work._ Sam paused and tried once again to visualize the room, not that it did any good since he had managed to hit, knock over, or break almost everything in the room which changed the position of the imposing obstacles each time he rammed into them which only confused him more. He had the good fortune of finding his "walking stick" which after much deliberation and realization that Dean was nowhere around to actually see him using it decided to give it a try. It proved beneficial, it enabled him to find the coffee table, and thus, relocate his phone which was now resting safely in his pocket. But it still wasn't enough to prevent his foot from catching on his backpack that he now clutched in his left hand, the bag's heaviness only served to make maneuvering through the room all the more difficult. _But if I drop it somewhere I'll never find it again_. Sam continued fumbling around the room, trying to keep hold of the stick in his right and his bag in his left._ Man, I bet I look like a complete idiot. _At long last the stick smacked into side of the bed.

Sam set his pack down on the bed and began fiddling with the clasp and zippers. "Yes!" he yelled, the excitement of success and renewed hope washed over him as the clasp was released. _Maybe I can **do** this_. Sam felt his way through the pack, grabbing each item he contacted, carefully placing the essentials to his right, and discarding the rest to his left. "CRAP!" Sam felt the flesh on his skin tear and subsequently dampen as his arm passed the serrated blade. _Well, not much I can do about that. At least I found a suitable weapon. _

After re-packing, leaving a quick voicemail for dean—making him annoyed and extremely worried at the fact that his brother didn't pick up, and a minute of reacquainting himself with the room. Stick in hand, Sam felt he was all set. _If nothing else, people will probably be more likely to help me if I have it._ _Not that I necessarily want their help…._ and with that Sam abandoned the safety and security of the tiny world he'd embraced and stepped out into a new world, once familiar, now terrifying.

-----------------------------------

Jessie sighed as she rested on the side of the bed running the faded blue towel back and forth through her wet hair. She liked Dean, really liked him. She had played the same game with many attractive guys she had met, but none of them came close to Dean. His smile was infectious; his hazel eyes piercing, his body lean and hard, she even found his rambling rather cute—even though most of it centered on his brother. _What was his name…Sam._ She soon asserted that he was the reason Dean was so upset earlier, and did everything in her power to ensure that Dean didn't and wouldn't remember._ Ugh, I can't believe I am letting myself fall for this guy._ _And he's gonna leave…well, maybe… _

An unfamiliar ring floated through the air, startling Jessie. She got up quickly and ran into the direction of the sound that resonated from Dean's coat pocket. She flipped the phone open, glanced at the caller id, and promptly hit the power button relaying the call to voicemail. _Sorry, Sam. Your brother's mine for at least one more today._

------------------------------------

Sam winced. He could feel the sun bearing into him making his head pound. He was supposed to wear sunglasses, Dean had bought him a pair. They were to be used when he went outside so he didn't add any unnecessary strain or damage to his eye muscles, at least that's what the doctor had told him._ Well, I'm already using a freakin' cane to get around and its not like I could've found them anyway. _A slight wind whooshed past him sending chills down his spine.

Sam still had yet to release his steel grip on the door handle. The roaring of the speeding cars echoed in his ears, they sounded close but he couldn't remember if the hotel was directly off the highway or not. He tried unsuccessfully to remember his room's location in relation to the check-in office. The one sound Sam was longing the most to hear, the sound of one single human voice was nonexistent. The hotel lot was barren. _I'm alone._

Sam breaths were coming in shallow and quick, anxiety was beginning to grab hold of him, he felt his stomach sink and his mouth was beginning to water. His whole body shook with fright. _"Keep your head Sam. If you can keep you mind focused and don't lose it, you can get out of anything" _the words of his father flashed in his mind. _I'm trying Dad, I'm trying…_Sam's knees were beginning to give out on him, and he was getting light headed. "I c-can't do this" his voice but a whisper.

With lightening speed, he twisted the knob and retreated back into his haven. Tears poured freely down his face and he slid his trembling body down the door until the he met the floor. He drew his legs to his chest, brought his hands to his face, his fingers laced through his dark brown locks. Gut wrenching cries escaped his lips as he cursed the darkness.

_Sammy, why didn't you help me?_

"I-I'm s-sorry Dean. I'm s-sorry"

-------------------------------------

_Okay, if you guys would lemme know what you think about this chapter. It's not the best i've done, in my mind so yeah constructive criticism is always welcome. Also it's 2 in the morning here so if i screwed anything thing up majorly fill me in on that as well. Thanx for reading._


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sam fought back tears as he heard his brother's words for the fifth time. _Hey, you've reached Dean. Can't come to phone right now. Leave a message and I'll get back as soon as I can_. He let them fall freely when the shrill beep signaled for him to leave yet another message.

"D-Dean" Sam pleaded, emotion enveloping every syllable. "Please, please—pick up. I'm sorry. Really I am. Please, Dean, I-I'm scared. I don't know what to do. I had a nightmare Dean, a bad one. I need you to come back, okay?"

_Beep_

"Are you mad I called Dad? Is that it? 'Cause the only reason I did was 'cause I was so scared when you left, I swear. You know I wouldn't do that just to piss you off, right? I wasn't thinking, sorry I won't ever do that again—please just call me."

_Beep_

"Dean, c'mon. Look something bad is gonna happen. You have to trust me. I saw it….well, in my mind anyways. You have to be careful okay?"

_Beep_

"Hey bro—are you there? Look man, I know you're probably tired of me calling, you know, but you said an hour and it's been a lot longer than that and I-I'm getting worried 'cause that nightmare was about you so--so call me."

_Beep_

"Please, Dean, please."

_Click_

Sam rested his head against the hotel door. _He's not coming back. It's my fault and now…now he's gonna die cause I couldn't just let him help me._ He traced the redial button with his thumb. It didn't matter how many more times he wanted to call Dean again; he knew the outcome. Sam couldn't even imagine what he would do if he had to hear that beep one more time.

--------------------------

"Was that my phone?" Dean asked, poking his head out from the bathroom door.

"Huh?" Jessie knew her reply was weak.

"My phone. It rang. You didn't hear it?"

"No, nothing rang. Don't tell me you're hearing things" Jessie teased.

"Haha. Very funny." Dean stated flatly as he stepped out into the bedroom and began the hunt for his clothes. " Are you sure it didn't ring? And what did you want to do for breakfast?"

"Yes, I'm 100 positive about your phone. Now tell me, do all men think only of food and women?"

"Uh, yeah."

"HEY" Jessie yelled mocking offense.

"What?" Dean asked, the question dripping with innocence.

"How about I go to the bakery down the street, they have the best pastries this side of Terrabone."

"I'll go with you" Dean responded quickly, moving toward the door.

"Not in those you're not!" Dean stopped, puzzled at Jessie's response until he realized he was standing in front of the door in his boxers.

-------------------------------

Hopelessness was setting in. Sam acknowledged the fact that he needed help, but he couldn't think of anyway he was gonna get it. He had tried screaming, hoping that the people staying in the rooms on either side would hear him through the thin walls, but judging from the lack of response, the rooms appeared to be vacant. _I can't go back outside…not alone--I can't. _Sam would've been content to have a maid pay him a visit, or better yet the manager. _Dean usually pays by the night, so eventually the man is gonna have to come to get his money, right? _The positive thoughts only provided temporary solace as the day wore on, negativity seemed better suited to his mood anyway. _No one's coming for me. _He racked his brain for another method, any method. Maybe there was someone else to call. Sam smirked. _Well, there is somebody. Not that he would answer"_

--------------------------------------

To say that Jessie was surprised to see Dean rummaging around the room when she returned is an understatement.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for my phone, what else?" Dean bit his lower lip. He was getting frustrated. He could've sworn he heard his phone ring, and he was beginning to think Jessie was just playing with him. He had turned the room upside down looking for it, to no avail. _I had it with me. I know I did._

"It's a phone, Dean, not the cure for cancer. You can just get another one."

"I can't just get another one." Dean snapped as he threw the sheets off the bed. "I need to call Sam, he's all alone. I-I, O God, I left him. And he's probably freakin' out—he does that and you know what? He was probably the one who called me—yeah I'd bet anything he's sitting in the hotel losing his mind because I didn't call him back. I told him I'd be back and I… "

Jessie frowned. _Great. You know, this rambling thing is getting old. **Dean look at me.**_

But Dean didn't even throw a glance in her general direction, he was too focused on ripping apart the hotel's pillows. Jessie ran her hand over her face. _Fantastic, he's battling so many emotions right now I can't latch on. I have to calm him down._ Jessie made her way over to coffee table and set the breakfast bags down, throwing a glance back at Dean to make sure he was thoroughly occupied, she reached into her pocket and released his beloved phone.

"Did you check behind the coffee table?" Dean wiggled his way out from underneath the bed.

"Huh?"

"The coffee table, did you check around it?"

"I think so." Dean said quietly as he made his way over to where Jessie was standing. Relief and embarrassment washed over him as he saw his prized possession resting behind the table leg. He snatched it up quickly and began running through the missed calls and messages. Confusion etched his face as he stared at the small screen. Nothing. No new calls, no new messages. _I guess Jessie was right. _He brought his gaze back to Jessie and flashed her a smile. Jessie flashed one right back. _I just want one more day Dean._

----------------------------------

Sam was shaking when he heard the deep, severe voice on the other line. "Dad?" he ventured.

"Sammy? Is that you? Boy, I thought I told you not to call me anymore. It's dangerous. I humored you on that last one, only cause you called six times in a row…."

"Dad, please." Sam interrupted, he knew he shouldn't have but he didn't have time for a lecture. "Dean's not here, he should be here by now. Dad, something's wrong."

John sighed, "You know that for a fact Sammy?" Sam flinched at the nickname, but kept on.

"Well, no, not really, but I had a nightmare and.."

"You had a nightmare." John interjected, repeating the words as if they held no value, no importance. _Like he does when he thinks Dean and I are lying._

"Dad, you have to believe me. I have to help him, but…but I can't" 

"Why not Sam?"

"Why not? Dad, I can't see. How am I supposed to help Dean if I cant see what's trying to kill him?"

"You've been through worse, Sam" John could feel his blood pressure rising. He raised his sons to be men, not boys, so why weren't they acting like 'em.

"Been through worse—been through worse…ha, how would you know?" Sam's anger now apparent in his raised voice.

John had had enough. _First Dean undermines MY authority and now Sam wants to be babied._

"Sam, you listen here. A handicap isn't an excuse. You are a trained and experienced hunter. Now, be a man and get out there and help your brother. And don't call me to whine about how bad you think your life is ever again, understand! And boy…."

A pause. Sam braced himself for the second half of his father's rant, his hands were shaking and he couldn't quite get his breath.

"D-dad? You there?" the words fell out of his mouth slowly, hope intertwined. _You need his help Sam. Don't piss him off anymore._

Whatever small amount of hope Sam had managed to muster was completely ravaged by the sound he heard next.

_Click._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Before Sam had time to give into a complete emotional and mental breakdown, his salvation came. A knock, a single knock, and Sam could feel his world beginning to shift.

"Anyone in there?" the woman's voice so sweet, filled with concern. Sam brought his arm up and began the search for the doorknob, grabbed it and used it to brace himself as he began to stand on his weak legs. He cracked the door open bringing only his left side into view, carefully concealing the knife he clenched firmly in his right hand. _Just in case._

"Oh, honey, are you okay?" At that moment Sam realized how horrible he must look. His face was still sticky from his tears, and he guessed that his eyes were probably red and puffy. Not to mention the fact he had been raking his fingers through his hair and God only knew how bad that had added to his present state of dishevelment.

"Uh, not really." Came the reply.

"I saw you outside a while ago. You looked lost." Sam's heart leapt in his chest. _So someone did see me. Oh, God, please let her help me!_

"I'm blind" Sam said the words as if they were fact, _Fact not truth. _He didn't believe the words, he couldn't, and he began to remind himself that this would only be temporary, it had to be.

"I could see that." Sam could hear the smile on her face.

"Well, I'm still getting used to it, and my brother—he left and I don't know where he is. I tried calling him but he's not answering." Sam replied pulling his phone from his pocket as if making the stranger view the item made his story more believable. He felt the stranger's hand brush his and begin to take his phone, Sam was about to lash out, but the stranger anticipated his reaction.

"You're phone's dead. How about you use mine?"

"It is? Oh, uh, that would be nice. Thank you." Sam was overwhelmed with gratitude as he reached out to take the stranger's gift. He pulled his hand back when he realized that it would take him an hour to figure out the buttons on the foreign object.

"Um, could you dial the number for me?" Sam asked, as a frown crept on his face. _I can't believe I have to ask someone to do that for me. Six year olds can dial a phone._

"Sure, honey. Now, what's your brother's number?"

---------------------------

Dean sprawled out on the bed, his eyes fixed on the closed bathroom door as he listened to Jessie moving around in there. _She's lying to me. I know I checked behind the table._ _But why would anyone lie over a phone call? And why would Sam call me?_

Dean felt like he couldn't think straight. Jessie had said that all he did was talk about his brother. But his current memory of Sam was hazy and every time he tried to break through the fog, it seemed Jessie was always there to distract him. It was as if the emotion of the relationship was removed from the equation, and Dean no longer felt any strong tie to the man he called his brother. The illusive phone call had given way to the impression he was supposed to be worried about Sam, but he couldn't figure out why he should be, other than he had left him alone. And while that one thought alone had managed to work him into a state of panic fairly quickly, it now left him confused. Something was missing, it was like when he had gotten a new tape and even though he listened to it over and over, still forgot the words.

Dean's eyes lingered on the bathroom door for a couple more minutes, and when he was sure that Jessie wasn't coming out anytime soon, he made his way to the door and stepped out into the hall. He flipped his phone open and began scrolling through his contacts. _They should make these things in order of importance, not alphabetically. What genius thought this one up?_

The second Sam's name became illuminated, he hit send and waited. There was no ring, his call was sent immediately to voicemail. _That's weird. Sam always leaves his phone on._

Choosing not to leave a message, Dean hung up and was about to try again when he heard the door creak behind him and turned to see Jessie glaring back at him.

Jessie could have slapped herself for being so stupid. She knew that Dean was in a torn emotional state and she had left him alone to dwell in it. It was hard enough for her to latch on when people's emotions were running wild, but the challenge increased ten-fold when they were away from her presence for extended periods of time. She had left Dean alone to his thoughts twice this morning, and the web of confusion she had wrought so carefully was beginning to lose its hold. _I guess I'm just going to have to work a little harder._

"So, Dean, are you ready to see that house I was telling you about?" Jessie asked, silently reminding herself to tread carefully.

"Huh? Oh, well, Jessie, you see—um…I don't think so. Not today." Dean mumbled as he pushed past Jessie retreating back into the hotel room to gather his stuff.

"Is this about your phone again?" _What is with this guy?_

"No. It's not about the phone. It's about my brother. I left him and now he's not answering his phone. And…and…I think, maybe, something's wrong. You know? Well, I'm not sure—I can't really remember. I'm not making any sense, am I?"

"No, not really" Dean bit his bottom lip upon hearing her abrupt reply. _Is there any girl on this entire planet that doesn't think I'm crazy?_

"Look, I'm sorry. Last night was the best night I've had in a long time, but I really need to go." Jessie watched as Dean began to put his jacket on and sighed. _React, Jessie, you're gonna lose him._

"Dean, wait!" Jessie smiled when he actually did. _At least he's listening _"What if we swing by the hotel first before we go to the house. We need to pick up your car anyway, and you can check up on your brother and once you see that he is fine—and he is fine, trust me. And then, well, we can enjoy the rest of the day together." **_Say Yes, Dean._**

"I guess that'll work, but if my brother's not ok, then I'm staying with him and you're just going to have to deal with it." Jessie was slightly taken back by the Dean's harsh reply but chalked it up to him just being a over-protective older brother and went to get her keys. Twenty minutes later, she was following the Impala across the parish to the Wayside Motel.

-------------------------

"It's busy." Sam stated, defeat evident in the admission.

"Well, did he mention where he was going before he left? Leave you an address or a name of a place?" Images from his most recent nightmare replayed in Sam's mind. He knew where Dean was gonna be. Lying never came easy to Sam, he loathed it especially when the person he had to lie to had been nothing but helpful. He had to fight every day to keep the truth from Jess and that alone almost killed him. _Desperate times call for desperate measures though. Right?_

"Well, he mentioned this old house he wanted to check out. I think he said it used to be a plantation or something like that." Sam knew it was vague, but it was the best he could do, and if the stranger was from around here then she should know what he was talking about.

"Well, Terrabone has a few plantations. But the Toliver place is the closest to this hotel. It's a fantastic home—got this great red door that just--"

"That's it! That's the house!" Sam couldn't contain his excitement. _I'm gonna be able to save him. I'm gonna be able to help Dean! Toliver…Why does that sound familiar? Who cares?_

"Alright then. What are we waiting for?" Sam felt the stranger's gentle touch on his arm as she continued, "Okay, do you need me to get anything for you?"

"No, uh, just give me a minute." Sam bent down to get his backpack and managed to unzip it and conceal his knife fairly easily before shouldering the pack and grasping his stick. _Well, you helped me before, but just so you know, if I think my brother is somewhere within a mile radius, I'm dumping you._

Sam expected for the women to lead him to a car; instead she informed him that the Toliver home was only a mile and a half away. She also had mentioned that he looked as if he needed the exercise as well as the sun because he looked paler than the moon. At first Sam had complained, but the afternoon sun wasn't quite as hard on his eyes and he was enjoying the company.

He had asked her name and she had said Myrah. It was a new name to Sam, but he couldn't help thinking it sounded like an old-fashioned one. One thing was for sure, Myrah knew a lot about the history of the Toliver plantation. The more she talked about it, the more Sam was intrigued.

"So, Lady Toliver was killed by her husband?"

"So the legend goes."

"So where did they bury her?" the question came without thinking now, he had asked it so many times in the past 6 months.

"What kind of question is that?" Myrah laughed.

"Just curious." Sam replied defensively.

"Well, if you must know, she wasn't. Buried, I mean. Apparently, the story goes that there wasn't anything left of her to bury after Lord Toliver was done with her. Some people even go as far as to say that the hallways turned into seas of blood as he continued to chop away at her. Gross, huh?"

The question lingered unanswered in the air. The more Myrah revealed, the more Sam pondered why the story sounded so familiar. _Maybe it's tied to my nightmare somehow._

"Okay, we're here. Just take a step up—that's it. Good, I think you're getting the hang of all this." Sam smiled at the encouragement as he heard Myrah open the door. Taking his hand she guided him into what she described as the main foyer, closing the door behind her. Sam was startled by the sound but his mind shifted back to Myrah as she began going into all kinds of facts and information regarding the abandoned relic, her voice was quiet almost reverent as she spoke.

"Myrah?" Sam interrupted. He spoke gently, not wanting her to think he was rude.

"Yes, Sam."

"How do you know all this stuff? I mean, it's just that you seem to know everything about this house, far more than the local legends reveal." Sam couldn't help it. His curiosity and instinct were kicking in. Something was off.

"Well, of course I do." Sam tensed as he felt her hand on his shoulder. Her warm touch that once had brought him comfort now made his blood run cold. Everything in him told him to run, but his body wouldn't move. Her icy grip sent chills down his spine and her voice penetrated to his core as revelation racked his body.

"I'm the Lady of the house."

------------------------

So what'd you think? good or bad? worth the wait? please R&R--inspires me to write more. Thanx.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 

Witnessing Dean's idea of 'safe' driving did nothing but confirm to Jessie that he wasn't exactly mentally stable at the moment. She was having one hell of time trying to keep up with him and she was cruising at an even 80, not to mention the fact Dean seemed to be unaware of the fact the cars come with these little things called turn signals. She shuddered as the Impala screeched to a halt, smirked when she realized that Dean's beliefs on parking where just as twisted as his on driving, and laughed when she saw him practically tear off the hotel door as he jerked it open. _I think I'll stay here for a while, before going in there._

Dean slowly sank back onto the bed as his eyes darted frantically across the room. It looked like the place had been ransacked. The lamp that once sat on the nightstand was at present shattered into a million pieces which were strewn all over the space between the beds. All the research he had done was under the coffee table, instead of on top of it and both of the chairs had been knocked over. The beds were a mess, the sheets pulled in a thousand different ways, but they always were. Dean noticed, however, that Sam's bed held some T-shirts, his spare jacket, and their first aid kit all of which Sam usually carried in his backpack. Dean jumped off the bed and launched a hunt for the bag. _Maybe Sam just left on his own. Yeah, that would be ok…_

Concern dominated Jessie's features as she crossed the threshold and caught site of the young man who had appeared so strong a day ago, hunched over on the edge of the bed, slowly rocking back and forth, head in hands. She knelt down in front of the trembling man and gently reached out, lightly touching his chin as she guided his face to hers.

"I-I can't find his bag" Dean stammered, his hazel eyes, now pools of unshed tears.

"Well, let me help you." Jessie said gently.

"It's not here. Sam's not here." Jessie had to strain to hear his reply. _God, he really loves his brother. _She had never felt so helpless in her entire life than when she looked into his eyes. _Stay strong, Jessie, stay strong. _Despite all her inner resolve, Jessie's heart broke as she watched tears weave their way down the young man's face. The room had fallen silent, save for Dean's heavy breathing. Jessie was scared that he was going to hyperventilate if she didn't do something quickly.

"Dean, can you think of anywhere Sam would go?" Jessie almost felt like she was talking to a child, a scared lost child, and her tone conveyed it.

"No." Dean sniffed and began rubbing the tears from his face.

"Well, then, how about we stay here and wait for him. I don't mind, the Toliver house has been here for a long time and I don't think it's gonna go anywhere before Sam comes back." Jessie attempted a smile, expecting Dean to give a weak "okay" in reply.

"Did you say Toliver house?" Dean's voice cracked. His mind was racing as he ran over to the pile of papers lying haphazardly under the table, nearly knocking Jessie over in the process.

"Yes." A stunned Jessie answered. "Dean, what's going on?"

"My dad--he—Sam and I—our job—we…" Dean didn't know how to explain it, it was different when people requested that he fix their supernatural problem. He couldn't just offer up his life's story to anyone that he came in contact with, and truth be told, his trust in Jessie was beginning to crumble. And while Dean was panicked, guilt soon overtook him as he found the news clippings from years past. His throat tightened and his stomach protested violently as his eyes scanned the headings. His head ached as his mind forced him to remember. It was all coming back now—the coordinates, the job, the haunted plantation…. _Why didn't I focus? I was so mad at Sam, and now I've killed him. Dad's never gonna forgive me. He gave me a job and look what I did. He was right, I failed. _

"Dean…" Jessie said cautiously as she made her way towards him. Dean jerked at the sound of his name and turned to face her, his hands still clenching the papers. At first Jessie thought he was angry, but his eyes conveyed a deep sorrow that she didn't think was possible. 

"Sammy's blind." Dean gasped at the disclosure. The thought had hit him suddenly as his mind broke the darkness and confusion that had surrounded him for nearly two days.

"What? You never mentioned that before." Jessie couldn't believe it. _No wonder he was upset the other day. Well, I am officially the most selfish person on the planet. Dean needed to be here to take care of his brother and I—I just couldn't let him. I made him stay and forget. I made him forget! If something happens to Sam…._

"It was my fault. I dropped him. I knew he'd already hit his head and I dropped him." The admission came slowly as Dean began to piece back time, guilt and remorse bringing him to his knees.

"I'm sure it wasn't you're fault, Dean." Jessie was kneeling in front of him now, trying desperately to get through to Dean. They had to save Sam; there was no way he just left on his own.

"My dad..he tried to tell me.." Dean was staring off now, his eyes blank.

"DEAN!" Jessie couldn't help but scream, if she left Dean to his thoughts, Sam could die, and Dean wouldn't be able to live with that. She wouldn't be able to live with that. Her forcefulness worked, Dean snapped out of his comatose state and was now staring back at her.

"Where would Sam go, Dean, where would he go?" She had Dean by the shoulders, her fingers holding tight to his skin. Dean brought his hands into view, revealing the clippings and a picture of the house Jessie knew all too well. "Why would he go to the Toliver house, Dean?" "It's our job." Dean replied as he started to rise. His mind seemed to clear as he uttered that statement. He was focused now. He had to be. Jessie watched as Dean began to go throughout the room grabbing his gear. Dean appeared to be coherent and almost fine now, his brow furrowed in thought. Jessie stared intensely, her eyes widening considerably when she saw him pull a knife out from under one of the pillows. _I slept with a mad man._

"Okay, let's go. The rest of the stuff is in the car." The sound of his voice broke her from her thoughts. She smiled when she saw him standing in the doorway with all his gear. _He looks like Rambo._ Her smile quickly turned to a frown when she realized Dean had every intention of driving.

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Sam silently prayed to God that he'd heard Myrah wrong, but he knew he hadn't. It angered him that he didn't realize it before, he had dealt with the supernatural all his life, and he'd thrown all of his knowledge and instinct away in one moment of weakness. He remembered his dad sending the coordinates and Dean mentioning a haunted plantation on the drive, but then he'd gone blind and that had defined him for the past week. He had paid no attention to Dean or the research his brother was pouring over. He had just told himself that Dean was trying to deprive him of the angry, hate-filled confrontation he'd been craving. _Maybe if I had, none of this would've happened. __Dean's right. I am a selfish bastard._ "Sam" her voice was piercing, no longer holding the soft sweet quality it had mere hours before. She had released him from her grasp, but her presence remained strong. He knew she was near.

"What do you want from me?" Sam asked, trying to conceal his anger at the stranger's betrayal.

"You have a gift Sam. I need it."

"Why?" Sam mentally kicked himself for letting his curiosity get the better of him again. _She could kill me and I'm having a conversation. At least it'll buy me—no, Dean some time to get here and save me._

"Does it matter?"

"Yes." Sam spat, his frustration evident. He didn't appreciate Myrah toying with him.

"Well, I guess, since no one's cares what happens to you anyway, I have all day." Sam clenched his jaw upon hearing the laughter in her voice. _You're not gonna be laughing when my brother puts a round of rock salt in your ass._

"Have a seat, Sam." Before Sam could respond, he felt something ram into the back of his legs and her icy touch push him into chair.

"You have to promise not to hurt me until you've told me everything!" The words escaped Sam's mouth before he'd even thought about offering a plea. _Now I'm the pathetic one._ Myrah let out a loud menacing laugh.

"Who do you think you are, Sam Winchester?" Sam tensed as he felt her icy breath brush across his face. "Now, may I begin? And I'd advise you not to interrupt me."

Sam sat there as quieter than he ever had including the one time he had gone to church. He willed himself to focus and try to find anything in Myrah's tale that would make vanquishing her easier. But instead he was left with a tale of a brutal husband and some girl that Myrah used to commune with. She had claimed the girl was the reason she needed Sam. Apparently, Myrah had once had a gift as well, which led to her unfortunate demise and had transferred part of her gift to the girl. The girl, however, proved irresponsible and now leeches off of the small remnant of power that Myrah possesses.

"So how is all of this my problem?" Sam asked pointedly, knowing his question would piss her off. But he had a plan now.

"You have the power, Sam." Sam trembled as Myrah's wintry fingers weaved and twisted his hair, her cold breath passing over the base of his neck.

"Why do you keep saying that?" _Play dumb, just keep her talking…_

"Even in the brightest places we have shadows. There, within the darkness the secrets are hidden. I've seen your darkness, Sam. I know the power you wield and yet you waste it. Toss it aside, and curse it."

"You're insane, you know that?" Sam threw the words out. The heat radiating from Myrah's anger burned his skin. _I have to get out of here. _He took a deep breath, and did the only reasonable thing he could of.

He ran.

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Alright, got a quick update this time. Lemme know what you guys thought, and i changed it so you can review regardless of whether you're a member or not.


	10. Chapter 10

Okay, first of all, sorry for not being able to post for such a long time. My professors are trying to kill me. I swear! 

And thanx again for reviewing—it really helps me out a lot. And I love hearing what you guys have to say.

Also, as far as the whole end of Chapter 9 goes, it's feasible. I went to summer camps with a guy that was blind and he competed in all our challenges, including the running/climbing ones. So…..yeah. Okay, now on to what you're really here to for.

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Chapter 10 

_What the hell am I doing? _Sam pushed the thought aside, as he tried to concentrate on keeping his long legs from colliding with each other. After all, what would be the point of launching an insane and completely irrational escape plan if tripping over his own two feet thwarted it. He knew it was a stupid move, but he also knew he was in danger and he wasn't gonna let some power-obsessed spirit take him out. _I'm a freakin' Winchester, for God's sake._ Inevitability caught up with him mere seconds later in the form of an uprooted floor board causing him to gasp as the sharp pain radiated through his foot.

For a brief moment, Sam lost contact with everything, the thick, stale air offering his only support. Frantically, he swung one arm across himself shielding his face and stretched the other one out as far as he could. _If I can prevent at least one more injury…_ Sam held his breath, braced himself, and waited for gravity to have her way.

A scream escaped through Sam's lips as his body struck the floor, the wood that greeted him was as strong as concrete. The impact stole his breath away, and his chest burned something fierce as he madly tried to regain a normal breathing pattern. He willed himself to move, but his body refused.

"Now, that wasn't a bright thing to do, was it, Sam?" Sam sensed Myrah's presence nearing him, shivering as each step she took toward him intensified the biting cold that encompassed the empty house.

Sam bit his tongue and flung his arms out, desperately trying to contact something, anything that would help him reach a standing position. _Please, God, not like this. Please…_ He managed to pull himself to his knees before a sharp piercing pain surged through him and it's source forcing him into the floor once again. Sam's head slammed against the floor, but the swiftness of the impact caused it to snap back. Sam yelped in pain as Myrah yanked his hair bringing his face to hers. The once dull ache grew to the magnitude of a freight train plowing through his brain with each passing moment. _Where's Dean?_

Sam could feel his eyelids falling and if it were possible, he swore his darkness was growing deeper and more ominous with each fleeting second. Myrah's voice continually echoing in his ears as his consciousness waned and abandoned him.

"You're mine, Sam. You're mine."

----------------------------

Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel. _He's gonna be ok. He's fine. Sam is completely fine._ As much as he wanted to believe it, Dean couldn't allow himself too. _What's that they say about preparing for the worst?_

He shot a glance over at Jessie, who turned quickly to stare out the window avoiding his gaze, nervously chewing on her thumbnail. _Why won't she look at me? She's acting like this is all her fault…I'm the irresponsible pathetic older brother._

"There—That's it! That's the house." Jessie stated quickly, her pitch bordering that of a scream, as the old white house came into view.

Dean jerked the wheel to the left, guiding the car onto the dirt road leading to the house, and threw the car in Park. He scrambled out of the car and popped the truck, searching and pulling out only the essentials. He'd actually done the research this time and knew exactly what he was dealing with and thus exactly what he needed to get the job done.

Once he was certain he had everything, he shouldered his pack and starting to run towards the house when he heard Jessie call out to him. He turned to see her stepping out of the car, moving towards him.

"Jessie, get back in the car!" Dean shouted the command, his tone ought to have left no room for any argument on Jessie's part. But Jessie was stubborn, almost as stubborn as Dean.

"I can help you Dean. Really, I can." Jessie called out, continuing moving forward.

"No. No. Get back in the car." Dean said, through clenched teeth, concern for her safety and anger at her resistance intertwined in his reply. _Stay calm. Don't lose it._

"Dean, I—"

"That's an order!" Dean roared, rage consuming the words. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself as he watched Jessie's face rapidly morph into one of complete shock and fear. He knew that look. That was look Sam got on his face whenever their father has used that line on him. _I just can't let anyone else get hurt._

Dean sighed heavily, he thought about attempting an apology, but the thought died before it even reached his lips as Jessie flung the passenger door open and sunk down into the seat. She shot one more angry look at Dean, locking eyes with him to ensure he saw it, and slammed the door shut. Smiling to herself as she saw him cringe at the sound.

Dean watched Jessie for a moment more, hoping that she would stay put. When she made no further attempt to get out of the car, he turned and started back toward the house.

The old stairs creaked under his weighted steps and the floor boards moaned under the added pressure. Dean peeked through the windows on either side of the door, he couldn't afford to be caught off guard and he definitely didn't want to end up giving Sam a chest full of rock salt. He remembered all too vividly what that had felt like.

He touched the door knob gingerly with his left hand and positioned himself against the door, shouldering his gun on his right. With one swift movement, he threw open the door and stepped into the room, cocking the gun. He did a quick scan of the first floor, and then proceeded, carefully examining behind and around every old piece of furniture and down every hallway and in every room calling his brother's name but receiving no reply.

Frustration and anxiety began to weigh on him as Dean approached the winding master staircase. He shuddered as a cold breeze whipped past him from behind. He brought his gun up and turned to find the source, but met nothing but darkness.

Dean shook his head and began making his way up to the second floor. _Since when did I become so jumpy? _He was almost at the top, when he felt the cold pass again. He turned once more, leaning over the rickety banister as he searched for what years of work experience had told him was a spirit lurking around. But again, nothing. Dean shifted his pack over his right shoulder.

"Sammy? You down there?" Dean frowned and began to step away from the banister when he felt the steely frigid grasp on his neck, followed by the sound of ghostly laughter as he was tossed like a rag doll over the edge.

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So, so...what do you think? Lemme know!


	11. Chapter 11

As promised--2 updates this weekend. Enjoy...

Chapter 11

Jessie was pissed. She couldn't believe the man who so eagerly accepted her help only minutes before, had just as abruptly rejected it entirely. _He had no right to yell at me like that! I just wanted to help. God, I even showed him where the house was. Why do men always think they can do everything by themselves?_

Jessie glanced down at her watch. Dean had been gone now for over half an hour and hadn't made any effort to assure her that he was ok.Worry crept into her mind, but she refused to give into it. _He's a grown man; he can take care of himself. _

She couldn't believe how quiet her surroundings had gotten, the birds weren't even singing. She longed to hear the wind whipping through the leaves of the tall trees encircling her old house, but the air was still. And she soon found herself beginning to miss the hum of the Impala, Dean's rambling, and the loud noise he affectionately referred to as music.

She turned her gaze back to her childhood home. _Has it really been 13 years?_ She sighed as she focused on the chipping white paint and the cracked wood jutting out along the porch. The red door she was so enamored with as a child remained slightly ajar, begging her to enter, to return, and to remember.

Jessie couldn't take it anymore. The one thing she hated more than being bored was being left out and technically this was her house. _Who did Dean think he was denying me the right to enter anyway? He doesn't own me! Besides, one small tour can't hurt._

With that thought in mind, she exited the car and began advancing toward the forgotten plantation overrun with ivy and smiled. _I'm home._

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Sam groaned as his eyes fluttered open, quickly squeezing them shut as his mind and body began to regain their natural state of consciousness, forcing his former pain to return in waves. He couldn't move even if he wanted to. _What's the point? I'm screwed anyway. _

All Sam could do now is wait. He did notice that the temperature of the room had raised considerably and could feel the sweat trickling down his brow. He knew the temperature change was do to the lack of Myrah's presence. _She'll come back. _He wasn't sure if this was the same room from before or if she had transported him somewhere else somehow. _Not like I have a point of reference._

The pain subsided some, and Sam attempted to raise himself into a sitting position. The task proved challenging. His chin rested on his chest for the simple reason that it felt like it weighed a ton and he couldn't quite bring it up. His arms refused to cooperate and support him initially, but he was determined to keep trying until they did. By the time Sam reached the desired position, he was exhausted.

He flayed his arms out trying to come in contact with something he could lean against and found a wall. With the small amount of stamina he had left, he gritted his teeth and slid his body toward it. He positioned himself so that his back was up against the wall and stretched out his sore legs slowly, pausing slightly when they came in contact with something else. _An another wall, maybe? Furniture?_

If he wasn't so tired, he would have caved and went over to figure out exactly what else he was sharing his current prison with, but his body screamed for a break. He rotated his head to the right, and rested it against the wall. He blinked slowly and was startled by what awaited him upon uncovering his eyes. Sam felt his heart skip a beat and a lump forming in his throat.

Gray. Not black. Gray. Sam's whole body trembled, and hope flooded over him. His once dark world was now an array of different shades of gray. Their beginning and end contrasting each other perfectly. _Shapes…I can make out shapes…_

The relief of his discovery brought tears to Sam's eyes. _I knew this wasn't permanent. I knew it. I can get out now. I can save Dean._

Sam pushed his palms against the floor and pulled himself up. His excitement and renewed purpose overpowering the tidal wave of pain latching onto his every movement. _Try and stop me now, Myrah!_

_-------------------------------_

Dean felt someone shaking him, and could vaguely make out the voice begging him to respond. He brought his head up slowly, his eyes darting to and fro, as he tried to remember where he was. The movement resided as he caught sight of Jessie's sweet face masked with concern and panic.

"Dean? Can you hear me?" She sounded so helpless as her cracking voice barely finished out the question.

"Mm…yeah." Dean replied slowly as he tried to get up. Jessie caught sight of the attempt and quickly placed one hand on his waist and the other on his arm helping him rise.

Dean seemed okay considering the fall he'd taken and Jessie had almost completely given into his façade until she released her grip and Dean had to support himself.

Dean cried out as the sharp pain traveled up his leg. He would've fallen again, if Jessie hadn't have been there to brace him—only then noticing the angle at which his right leg was positioned.

Jessie bit her lower lip. _How could I be so stupid? I was so concerned he'd be coherent that I didn't even check for broken bones._ It took almost all of her energy to allow Dean to support himself on her shoulder and attempt to grab the old chair to set him down in. Dean was less than compliant as Jessie tried to get him to sit and let her have a look.

"It's fine! Really." He attempted to stand once again on his own to prove his point, but his leg gave out on him again. "I have to find Sam."

"We'll find him. Okay. We will, but first just let me see how bad this is." Jessie helped Dean sit down and stretched his leg out. Moving as carefully as she possibly could, she began rolling up the pant leg of his jeans. She tried not to move so slow as to drag the pain out, but every time she heard Dean wince she froze momentarily.

"Damn that hurts!" Dean gasped.

"I'm almost there. Okay? You're doing great." Her voice was barely audible as she inspected the damage. She could taste the bile attempting to surface and swallowed quickly.

A bone had managed to break free and pierce through the young man's flesh, leaving a gaping tear snapping the muscle and surrounding tissue. Jessie thanked God silently that the blood flow was minimal. _For now, anyway._

"That bad, huh?" Dean muttered as he noticed the look of distress on Jessie's face. He began to shift to see the damage, but Jessie blocked his view.

"Trust me…you don't want to see it." Jessie tried to sound somewhat authoritative, but Dean wasn't having it and proceeded to brush her aside as he glanced down at the contorted bloody mess he called his leg.

"Well, that can't be good."

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Alright, you know the drill! Send a review and let me know what you think!


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 

A grin slipped onto Sam's face as he turned the knob cracking the door open, freeing himself from his holding cell. He had found the door fairly easily considering his current state and was more than pleased with himself for accomplishing the task. _I wish Dad and Dean could see me now. They'd be proud._

Stepping through the doorway, he cocked his head to the left and then shifted it to the right. The grayish mass that the left offered seemed a far lighter shade than his right, whose dark gray seemed to stretch out into unending black. _I don't like black. _

He moved left slowly, dragging his feet to lessen his possibility of tripping again. After taking a few steps, he stretched out his arm, his fingers brushing against the solid wall. Sam traced his fingers along the wall, and began following it. His hand every so often contacting risen wood. _More doors? It must be a hallway._

A sickening cry resounded through the house, halting Sam. _What was that? Myrah? No, that sounded almost…human. _Sam held his breath as he waited nervously for the next sound to hit his ears, straining to hear which direction the cry came from. Within minutes, another blood curling scream reverberated off the walls. Sam's felt his chest tighten. He knew that voice all too well. _Dean? Oh, God..I'm too late._

_--------------------------------_

Dean bit down on his tongue hard as he surveyed the damage. He'd broken bones before, but he'd never had one protruding out like this. In a way, it intrigued him, like researching a type of supernatural being for the first time did. He shifted slightly and automatically regretted the movement. _Ha, I think I'd sell my soul for some vicodin right about now…. _

He'd already let a couple of screams slip out, as Jessie tried to clean the caked blood off his leg and readjust his pant leg, and that was well past his allowed limit. It upset him to see Jessie so tense and stressed because of him, and began internally berating himself for not being stronger.

"Ok…I really think we should leave and get you to a doctor." It was the first time Jessie had spoke since uncovering his wound completely and Dean could tell she was trying her best to stay calm. But there was no way in hell he was leaving without Sam. _I'm not screwing this up too._

"No." He panted between harsh breaths.

"Dean, it's bad. Real bad. You can't help your brother like this. We need to get you some help first." Jessie replied quickly, desperately trying to convince him leaving was the right thing to do. _Does he ever put himself before his brother?_

"I ca—won't leave him again. I-I mean, look w-what hap-happened last time." Dean heaved, tilting his head back resting it on the back of the chair. "C—can't you just put it back in pl—place or s-something?"

"Come again?" Dean smirked at the sheer disbelief that enveloped Jessie's sharp reply.

"You know—fix it."

"Dean Winchester, what the hell is wrong with you? Of course I can't fix this. Who do you think I am—Florence Nightingale?" Jessie voice raised a couple of octaves, marveling at the sheer stupidity of the suggestion.

"Maybe." Jessie bit her lip. She was getting tired of dealing with Dean's hero complex and even more tired of his refusal to accept her help._ God, he's stubborn_

"No, Dean. We're leaving right now. I'm taking you to the hospital, and I'll call the police to come back here to get Sam." She went to lift him out of the chair, but he pulled back almost falling over in the process.

"I'm not going anywhere!" Dean growled as he regained his balance and started to push himself up into a standing position, balancing all his weight on his left leg. _I'm gonna freakin' hop if I have to._

"Dean—" 

"Would it kill you to shut up for just one minute and actually listen to me?" The frustration and anger pouring from the man before Jessie caused her to cringe. Dean sighed heavily as he saw her face. _Can I do anything right anymore?_

"Look, Jessie, the same thing that took my brother did this to me. The police can't destroy this thing, trust me. So don't even think about mentioning leaving this house again, ok? I'm not going anywhere 'til I find that freakin' thing and kill it and I'm definitely not going anywhere without Sam." Dean tried to soften his tone, but his heavy breathing coupled with his state of panic still made the words fly out somewhat harsh.

"Okay, Dean, okay. Just let me help." Jessie muttered. _Please, don't fight me on this._

"Yeah, alright." Jessie smiled sadly at his compliance knowing it was only due the intense pain ravaging his body. She wasn't going to let Dean know that it was written all over his pale face, he was doing his best to hide it. Last thing he needed to hear was that he was failing miserably. She wrapped her arm around his waist and draped his over her shoulder.

"So…where should we look first? And what exactly did you mean by "thing"?

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Sam leaned his body against the wall staring into the dark gray he now faced head on. He wanted to call out to his brother, but he knew Myrah was around somewhere, and the last thing he needed was to summon her back. Sure, he hadn't felt her presence in a while, but she wasn't just going to leave him alone. _She's probably too occupied torturing Dean._

He forced himself to focus. His brother's voice had sounded distant, and had appeared to come from somewhere beneath him. _I must be upstairs. Oh, god, stairs…._

Sam pulled himself away from the wall and started moving towards the dark surrounding him. _It must be open area. It has to be…the stairs have to be here somewhere._

His progress was stopped as his stomach came in contact with a long horizontal piece of wood._ A banister._ He grabbed hold of it and followed it as far as it stretched before hitting a wall. _Wrong way. I went the wrong way!_

Turning as quickly as he could, he proceeded in the opposite direction until he felt the wood turn to the right and nothing but air met him. Sam clutched the banister with both hands keeping his body parallel to it, his fingers aching as he began tightening his death grip.

His heart was racing as he stretched his leg as far as he could until the toe of his boot hit wood. _Okay, so maybe this won't be too bad. _He knew that the next step was probably only 6 inches below this one, but he couldn't slow down his breathing or stop the way his legs were shaking.

The process of getting down was extremely slow, and Sam couldn't help thinking about how he was going to explain to his dad that Dean had died because he couldn't walk down a flight of stairs. He had gotten 10 steps down, when he heard a crash followed by a stream of obscenities.

"Dean! Dean? Is that you?"

"Sammy?" Never in Sam's life had he loved the sound of that dreadful nickname that had stuck with him since childhood.

"Yeah…Dean, it's me." Sam choked in reply. _Don't cry…not in front of Dean. _Sam could hear a women's soft voice coaxing Dean along, asking his brother if he was ok and if he could stand on his own awhile. Sam was perplexed by her question but then he remembered the screams only minutes before.

"Dean? Are you ok? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Sammy. I'm fine. Just a little sore is all. Stay where you are. Jessie's gonna help you get down." Dean hadn't finished his sentence when Sam felt a hand brush his arm.

"Hey, Sam. It's nice to meet you. I'm Jessie. You're brother's told me so much about you. Now, let's get you down." Sam let Jessie lead him and admired how good she was at explaining his surroundings as well as encouraging him as he allowed himself to trust her guidance. She'd even mentioned how proud she was that he attempted to climb down on his own.

They reached the main floor and Sam felt his brother's hand come to rest on his shoulder. He brought his hand up, squeezing his brother's in his own.

Sam was about to comment on the impending chic flick moment, when he realized Dean was gasping for air and felt his hand slip out from under his. He heard Jessie call out and felt her brush quickly by him followed by a thud, he could only assume was his brother's body meeting the floor.

"What's going on? Dean? Jessie? Somebody answer me!"

"Sam." Sam held his breath noting that it was Jessie who answered him, not Dean. "You're brother had a pretty nasty fall. His leg's broken and God only knows if he has any other internal injuries. He needs to rest for a bit. He's pushed himself a little too far."

Sam didn't offer a reply, choosing rather to clench his jaw and hold his tongue for the time being. His only reason being he was terrified of what might come out of his mouth. _He lied. He freakin' lied. I knew he wasn't ok. Why does he always do this?_ A chill ran it's way up Sam's spine, jarring him from his thoughts.

"Jessie, we have to get out of here before she comes back." The room's temperature was now that of the Arctic and Sam knew that it was too late, Myrah had returned. "Jessie, we have to go. NOW!"

A scream pierced his ears and Sam swore he saw a white flash moving toward him. He cried out as his legs were whipped out from under him, jerking as he felt a hand grab his head before it collided with the floor as his brother's voice whispered fiercely into his ear.

"I got you, Sammy. She's not gonna get you. I promise"

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Alright, lemme just say that i am really proud of myself for finishing 3chapters in one weekend. haha. Well, okay, then...lemme know what you think!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 

The sun was beginning its descent and evening's dark threat had begun creeping in through the windows. Dean rotated his head slowly, squinting his eyes to try and catch another glimpse of the apparition that had charged his little brother only to vanish entirely moments later. _C'mon. Where'd you go?_

Jessie was on his right trying to catch her breath. Dean had heard her scream and at first had thought the thing had tried to take her, but she seemed fine now except for the angry and confused looks she kept firing his way. _I wonder how long it's gonna take before she starts yelling at me…_

"Dean?"

Dean shook his head and looked down at his little brother's face, noticing he still had Sam's neck in a firm supportive grip and realized that was why Sam had got his attention. Dean carefully removed his hold on his brother's head, halting momentarily as his worried tired eyes locked with Sam's blank empty ones. _I'm so sorry, Sammy._

Dean moved his hands under Sam's arms and using every ounce of upper body strength he possessed began pulling Sam closer towards him. He sighed contently when he had finally gotten his little brother into what he considered a suitable position with his back stationed against the old wall and his head resting on Dean's shoulder.

"Y-you okay, S-sammy?" Dean asked lethargically as he brushed the stray hair out of Sam's face.

"Yeah, Dean. I'm good--but you're not." Sam replied cautiously. _Don't piss him off._

"Sam, I'm fine." Dean replied quickly, relieved he'd managed to get the phrase out without a single gasp.

"Dean, don't do this, ok? Jessie told me what happened." Dean clenched his jaw tightly and turned his head sharply to face the betrayer. _She had no right to do that._

"So, what of it?" He shot back angrily, jerking back from his brother causing Sam's head to snap upright. Dean watched his brother's body tense at his sudden movement that had caused them to break contact, and he couldn't get over the fact that Sam's eyes were rapidly moving back and forth as he searched for him. _I'm right in front your face, Sammy._

"You're leg is broken and who knows what else. We need to leave and get help." Dean started to protest and grew irritated as Sam just continued to talk right over him, drowning him out in that mock superior tone he used every time he thought Dean was being irrational. "We can come back later after you're taken care of."

"That's what I've been saying." Sam smiled as Jessie chimed in. He knew his brother was hard headed but he rarely ever refused him and Jessie, well, Sam got the feeling that Dean liked her and that he would cave if they both worked him over enough. Sam waited for Jessie to add more to help his case, but she offered nothing more, and went back to former state of silent sulking.

"See, Dean, I'm not talking crazy"

"No, but you are talking to the wall, college boy." Dean scoffed. His lips forming into a smirk as he waited patiently for his brother's spiteful response. The former pity he'd felt for his blind brother was now gone, and his pent-up anger replaced it. Sam had betrayed him again. _First he calls dad and now he tells me I can't finish a job. Well, we'll see about that, won't we Sammy boy._

Dean's smirk faded. His little brother was a stubborn one and refused to give him anything in the way of verbal sparring. All he got was the sight of his little brother scrunching his face in confusion, his cheeks dark red with embarrassment. _College boy hates to look stupid._

"Dean, please." Sam pleaded quietly and rather calmly considering his older brother had made him look like a fool. _I have to remain calm. We can't survive another fight right now. He's just upset 'cause he's hurt. Nothing to do with me…I hope._

"Sam, I-"

"Look, Myrah is gonna come back. You know that right? And how are we going to fight her? Huh? I mean, really, we're not in good shape here." Sam was throwing the words out hastily; he was desperate and growing terrified of the thought that he would die at the hand of his brother's pride if he didn't do something quick. _But what? _

"Who the hell is Myrah?" Dean's anger began morphing into curiosity and confusion, wondering if Sam's blindness and seclusion for the past week was causing him to go off the deep end.

"You know her better as Lady Toliver. But I don't think she wanted to hurt us." The reply came coupled with an exasperated sigh. But the voice was Jessie's, not Sam's.

"No, she wanted to hurt me!" Sam replied angrily, his eyes wide.

"What? Why?" the response came quickly and earnestly.

"Because she thinks I have some sort of power, and she wants it. Not that I would expect you to comprehend that. You're just another ignorant townie!" Sam lashed out, his tolerance level had reached the level of nonexistent. _First Dean and now I have to deal with this moron._

"I'm ignorant? Sam, I used to live in this house, for God's sakes. I freakin' communed with the Lady. If anyone is ignorant here—it's you." Jessie spoke sharply her words laced with fury. _Who does this guy think he is?_

Dean had been sitting in painful silence watching the whole scene play out before him. His mind wasn't involved in it though; he was too focused on the intensifying agony that ran throughout his entire body. He couldn't shift anymore, without a quick charge of pain ripping through him like a jolt of electricity. A list of obscenities ran through his mind, but remained unspoken. _This is not good._

He thought about letting Sam win this one. Help was sounding better and better with each passing minute. He craved sleep, a temporary escape. _Just for a little while…_His eyes started to close but Sam's yelling forced them back open. _I'm gonna kill him. _Dean soon noticed it wasn't just Sam, but Jessie as well. He hadn't heard most of the argument, but he wished he'd had. He caught the last part though and now was completely engaged in the ongoing dispute. _Jessie used to live here?_

"You never told me that." Jessie stopped mid-rant and shot a look at Dean as if just realizing he'd been in the room the entire time. She could almost make out the hurt vaguely apparent in Dean's comment.

"Well, I didn't think it relevant at the time." Jessie retorted coldly.

"Oh, of course not. 'Cause I only mentioned the house and Sam a couple THOUSAND times."

It was Sam's turn to fade into a stunned silence. He still cringed inwardly when Dean flew into a bitter rage. His brother resembled his father so much when he argued---the same authoritative tone, the same hateful response, the same guilt tactic, the same sense of hurt and betrayal that lingered in their angry words. It scared him, really, it always had.

Sam's train of thought broke when he heard Jessie telling Dean something about not having to take his crap anymore, followed by heavy steps and subsequent banging. _She's leaving! _

"Dammit! Why won't it open?" Jessie screamed as she repeatedly altered turning the door knob to no avail and kicking the door.

"She's not gonna let us out." Dean stated nonchalantly.

"So what do you propose we do?" Jessie's voice still bordering a scream.

"We have to vanquish her." Sam voiced, reentering the conversation.

"You guys are nuts. You know that?" Jessie stated as she walked back over towards Sam and Dean.

"Yeah, we know." Dean quipped, a smile on his face.

"So, what? We wait for her to come back?"

"Yeah, pretty much, unless you know where we might find her." Sam said pointedly. _If she really communed with Myrah, she has to know._

"The attic…I used to go and talk to her in the attic."

"Why the attic?" Dean asked, genuinely interested.

"That's where it all happened. That's where she was killed."

"Okay, Jessie, listen. I need you to think." Dean started, the thrill of the hunt starting to course through him, "Did they ever find her body? Did they bury her?"

"No, there wasn't anything left to bury." Sam offered and Dean shot a look at Jessie for conformation.

"He's right. So the legend goes…"

"Alright, uh…Sam, I'm gonna grab your shoulder ok?" Dean slowly warned as he made his way back over to his brother. _Last thing I need is to be on the receiving end of Sam's right hook._

"Um…okay. What are you gonna do?" The question was unnecessary. Sam knew exactly what his brother planned to do and was more than slightly irritated when his shoulder almost buckled under what felt like Dean's entire body weight as he tried to reach a standing position.

Dean lost his balance once but Sam was prepared for it and reached out to steady him. It didn't take Dean's blood curling scream for Sam to realize he'd grabbed Dean's bad leg, the sharp bony edge against his palm sealed that.

Everything seemed to happen too fast. Dean was up, moving around. Sam could hear him dragging his bad leg behind him wondering how Dean would ever make it upstairs to the attic.

He felt Dean's hand on his shoulder and the cold steel in his hand. Dean took his right and placed it over the trigger. He placed spare ammo in Sam's left and instructed Jessie to stay with Sam.

Sam felt Dean's hand squeeze his shoulder tightly and listened intently to his orders.

"Stay here. Listen to Jessie. Make it with one shot if you can—well, maybe Jessie should have the gun. I mean…" Sam's throat tightened upon hearing his brother's doubts.

"It's okay, Dean. I can make out shadows now. Really, I can do this. Let me do this." Sam felt his brother's grip on his shoulder tighten as he said it and then release him.

And without another word, Dean was gone.

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Okay, so I'm getting better at updating faster, eh? So...lemme know what you think cause that really encourages me to get my butt back on the computer and start typing...


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Dean fingered the neck of his dark t-shirt bringing the worn fabric up to his face and shoving it into his mouth to muffle yet another of the harrowing pain-filled cries that shook his entire being as they sought the exile he refused to grant them.

The room he had stumbled into began to swim around him and then fade in and out of his sight. His weary legs abandoned him once again and feeling he was slipping, Dean threw an arm out rapidly to brace himself. He frantically swung at the wall, latching on to it and attempted to use his elbows for support as he strained to push himself back into an upright position, but continued sliding downward nonetheless.

Dean inhaled sharply and with the last remnant of energy in his possession, swung his arm up again, this time colliding with the top of the small old dresser to his right. His tired fingers clung to the top edge for dear life, and Dean worked furiously to position himself against the decaying antique. Sweat poured in rivers down the young man's face and every muscle tensed and quivered as he began to rise. His injured body protested fiercely, refusing to subject itself to crippling agony raging through it, screaming for him to give in and collapse. _I can't_.

When Dean had reached waist-level to the dresser, he threw his upper body forward. He gasped as his chest smacked roughly against the wood, but continued feverishly to keep his position. He pushed against the floor with his good leg to further balance his upper body across it and when he thought himself in a good position succumbed to his body's aching plea.

Dean tilted his head to the side to face the entryway lest he be caught off guard and laid it against the coarse wood. His back arched as his lungs labored to force air in and out of him. Aside from that sole movement, his upper half lay limp. As for his lower half, his good leg braced him for the time being but he knew that it wouldn't much longer. And he refused to let his bad one hit the floor. That didn't pose too much of a problem simply because of the way his leg was snapped to the left. He could feel his jeans sticking to the wound, the dampness in his shoe, and the growing numbness creeping up his leg. He knew he was losing more and more blood by the second and the last time he'd glanced down, he noticed the entire bottom of his pant leg had turned a brownish-red and had to do battle with his stomach to keep his breakfast where it belonged.After that, he had refused to view the damage again. But he couldn't help but contemplate if he would even have a leg when this was all over.

-------------------------------

Sam ran his hand over the familiar rifle. It was Dean's. He had gotten it for his twelfth birthday from their father. Dean loved that gun and claimed it had never failed him, not even once. A smile formed on Sam's lips as he thought about his crazy older brother's fondness for inanimate objects. It always amazed him how Dean could make the simplest thing become legendary. _As if the Impala wasn't enough…_

Sam was beginning to get frustrated because Myrah wouldn't show herself, and his head was throbbing terribly because he kept trying to force his eyes to focus and actually see something. His gray was now a sea of black once again and Sam realized night had fallen completely.

Frustration led to anxiety and Sam's mind went into overdrive as a series of possible outcomes played themselves out. His thoughts drifted back to his nightmare and he quickly shut the images out refusing to believe them as feasible. Suprisingly, his nightmare didn't contain some of the worst images he was concocting at the moment. _I can't take this anymore!_

Sam was a Winchester and being a Winchester he did what every man in the Winchester household did when they were nervous, he rambled.

"So…Jessie, do you think that Dean's found Myrah yet? Cause I, personally, think that we would hear something if he did. Or the temperature would lower again or something, you know? I bet he's in a lot of pain. He'd never admit to it though. Was it extremely bad? I obviously couldn't see it so I have no way of really knowing. Though Dean did scream, and he doesn't scream much…What do you think?" Sam voice had a light feel to it and he spoke speedily hardly pausing to breathe. He waited all of about a second for Jessie to reply but she didn't. _Maybe she didn't hear me. _"Jessie, are you listening me?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Jessie replied sullenly.

"Oh, well, what do you think?" Sam asked, ignoring her tone.

"Sam, look, I'm not one for small talk, okay?"

"Okay, no small talk. So…uh, you used to live here?"

"Yeah, I did." Jessie sighed. _This kid isn't gonna give up._

"Did you like it?" Jessie smiled at the young man's persistence and apparent interest in her history.

"Yes, I did. Did you like your childhood home?"

"Uh…well, I don't really remember it, we moved around a lot when I was younger. You said you communed with Myrah. What did you talk about with her?" Sam sighed when he realized he'd just pulled a Dean. _Avoid the issue, deflect back as soon as possible. Man, he's really starting to rub off on me._

"Everything and absolutely nothing, if you know what I mean." Jessie's voice trailed off as she spoke and remembered.

"Yeah, I think I do."

Silence flooded the room again and Sam began to try and focus on the small sounds coming from Jessie's direction as she moved around. He made a game out of it, attempting to guess what exactly she was doing. It managed to amuse him for all of about a half hour before he felt the need to babble on again. But Jessie beat him to it.

"Myrah never tried to hurt me." Jessie stated matter-of-factly. "So I guess I don't understand why she wants to hurt you?"

"She thinks I have some kind of power."

"Do you?" Her question threw Sam for a moment, though it shouldn't have, he was expecting it.

"Well…I—sometimes…" Sam didn't know what to do. It's not like it's easy to inform some random person that you are a psychic and was extremely relieved when Jessie cut him off.

"Cause I do." Jessie confessed so softly Sam almost didn't hear her.

"What?"

"I said I do. Have power, I mean." Jessie voice stronger now

"Oh." Sam replied, quite stunned to say the least

"Myrah gave it to me." That got Sam's attention and his thoughts drifted back to Myrah's story that he'd made her tell. _She's the irresponsible one, the reason Myrah's been weakened…_

----------------------------

A cool breeze blew throughout the room and Dean realized he'd lingered too long. He brought his head up and began looking for his gun that he had dropped carelessly before, but he had needed both arms to pull himself up so something had to go. He now regretted that decision. He caught sight of it to his left and pushed himself back up on his good leg, started moving towards it.

The gun lay only 6 feet away, but Dean would later swear it was a mile. The pain in his leg had subsided, but Dean figured that was only due to the blood loss and extensive damage and therefore wasn't a good sign nor something he could find hope in.

He sighed in relief upon arriving next to his prized possession but his small celebration was cut short by the figure that suddenly appeared directly before him. Dean tried to back away, but in his haste stepped down on his bad leg, renewed pain forcing him to the ground.

"Stupid boy. You should've known better." The figure's words dripping with superiority as she moved closer to Dean's writhing body, his face etched with pain, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

"Wh-what do y-you w-want?" Dean's words barely audible between his gasps.

"Power." Dean could feel the spirit's cool breath on his face, sending chills through him. "Your brother."

"S-sam isn't y-yours to t-take." Dean struggled with every word, and prayed they sounded believable.

"Oh. And whose going to protect him? You? Look at you, Dean. You're pathetic. You've failed. Sam's going to die at my hand and you—well, I'm still not sure what I'm going to do with you." Myrah's face was to his own now and Dean averted his gaze staring down at the floor. He started to move his hand back towards his gun, but Myrah caught his attempted heroics and laughed evilly as she brought her hand to his shattered leg.

A level of pain Dean never knew existed coursed through him. He screamed, a blood-curling wail that rushed his lips as he struggled futilely to escape Myrah's brand of torture.

Myrah released her hold and studied the man, the former man, before her, as his body trembled and tears fell from his hazel eyes. She had broken him, and now no one, mortal or immortal, could stand between her and her quest.

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Okay, my brain is officially fried. I got 5 chapters done in a week. Granted my bio, lit, and spanish grades are reflecting that, but hey, what can i say...i love writing this story and i love the fact that you guys like it! So send me a review please--encourage me to continue my feat and consequently fail a class or too. haha just kidding...not about the review part, about the failing part, but you already knew that!


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 

Sam listened intently to Jessie's side of the tale. He was always interested in knowing both sides of the "story" as it were, and he noted carefully the similarities and differences between Jessie's retelling which seemed almost pleasant and Myrah's discomforting one. _I would've been a good lawyer._

Jessie seemed completely unaware of the fact that she was the reason Myrah was so angry and Sam considered telling her, but decided not to given the current conditions and the fact that he needed her to be his eyes for the time being. _Last thing I need is for her to be mad at me._

So Sam sat quietly occupied within his thoughts, working to create a game plan, and let Jessie speak to the air. He rarely tuned people out, but he'd gotten the information he'd wanted from her and since she had reverted back to speaking about how much she loved their current torture chamber she affectionately called home, he didn't see any cause to listen.

His eyelids felt like they weighed a ton and began to fall slowly as Jessie continued on. Her voice had a lulling quality to it and Sam was already exhausted from the morning's ordeal. _Just gonna rest my eyes for a minute…or two…_

Sam's thoughts of sleep were cut off by a haunting despondent sound that echoed through the upstairs halls and ran it's way down the stairs into the foyer meeting his ears.

"What was that?" Sam cried out, his body rigid as he tightened his grip on Dean's rifle and nervously fingered the trigger.

"Probably Dean." Jessie offered, as she got to her feet and started across to the other side of the small hallway towards Sam.

"Why would you say that? Nothing bad is gonna happen to Dean!" Sam's voice was one of anger, fear, and blind faith, resembling closely the tone of a much younger Samuel Winchester that had arose every time in the past that Dean or his father, his heroes, had fallen momentarily. Sam berated himself mentally as he heard the weakness so apparent in his voice, his breathing quickening, as images from his nightmare ripped their way through him. _Oh, God, what if he's dead?_

"I'm sorry, Sam. I wasn't doubting your brother's abilities. It's just that, well, Dean isn't in the best of shape right now, and with Myrah angry and all. Well, it doesn't matter. I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry." Jessie touched Sam's arms gently as she knelt down beside him trying to comfort the shaking young man down.

"I'm sure he's fine." She added slowly. _Yeah, right. I really shouldn't give Sam false hope, but he looks so…helpless and frightened._

Jessie brought her hand to Sam's elbow and motioned him upwards. Sam moved quietly, nervously chomping on his lower lip, Dean's gun still clenched in his right hand, as he got to his feet.

"I think we should go look for Dean." Jessie meant her words as a suggestion, but they exited as a command.

"No!" Sam yelled furiously "Big family rule number 2--We don't disobey a direct order."

"Order? Sam, you know as well as I do that the sound we heard was more than likely from your brother. Don't you want to help him?" Jessie coaxed soothingly. She'd discerned that if it had been Dean, then the only way he would make it was if they came to his aid.

"No, Dean said to wait here." Sam made sure to emphasize "here", hoping Jessie would get the fact he wasn't going to disobey Dean because his fear and brain screamed at him not to.

"Want to know what I think about the whole Winchester hero complex, huh? I think you two are the most--" Sam could almost see Jessie biting her tongue as she tried to keep her anger at bay. _She will if she knows what's good for her._

Jessie's body shook with anger as she worked to restrain herself. Dean had told her to protect Sam, and how was she supposed to do that if he refused to go with her. _I could make him go. No, no…I can't…that almost cost Sam his life last time, and I can't risk that again...Can I?_

"Sam, please…" Jessie pleaded. _I'm only gonna give you one more chance to comply, and then I'm in control._

"Jessie, I said no, if you want to get yourself killed fine, but I—I—" Before Sam could reach a full tirade, he stopped. His attention grabbed by a bright white orb that appeared to be moving towards him. _Myrah!_

Sam's sudden silence and blank stare startled Jessie. She saw Sam take the rifle to his shoulder and begin to aim and she turned quickly to see what had brought on such a state. Jessie threw her hand over her mouth and fought back a scream as she beheld the spirit of her former confidant.

"Welcome home, Jessie" The icy voice hissed.

Sam's head throbbed horribly as he focused on the blinding white before him. Dean's words ringing in his head. _One shot if you can._ Sam clenched his jaw and content with his aim, brought his fingers over the trigger.

"Thought I forgot about you, Winchester?" Sam felt the gun being pulled from his grasp and groaned painfully as he fought to maintain his grip on the weapon. His arms quaked violently and every muscle in them burned as his last and only defense was torn from his hold. He heard Jessie scream as his body lurched forward but was quickly thrown brutally against the wall and was held there.

"Why are you doing this?" Jessie yelled, tears stinging her eyes, as she ran towards Sam's pinned body. She grabbed his arm and began pulling on it as hard as she could, in effort to free him. "Let him go! Please, let him go!"

"Jessie…stop…you have to get the gun." Sam murmured quietly willing himself to stay focused on the white before him. He wasn't sure if Jessie had heard him or not because she kept pulling on his arms and when that hadn't worked had moved to his legs.

"Jessie, my dear. Have I frightened you?" Myrah brought his icy hand to Jessie's shoulder and whipped her around with a single swift movement. Jessie gazed into the two deep pools of black before her. This wasn't the woman she had trusted so long ago; this was a monster--a horrible, hideous thing that sought to destroy her.

"You leave us alone!" Jessie yelled angrily, placing herself in front of Sam shielding him from Myrah's presence.

"Jessie, what's going on? What's happening?" Sam voiced nervously as he felt Jessie's body firm against his. Her actions forcing him to lose sight of Myrah and wallow in darkness once again.

"You can't protect him, Jessie. And I'm surprised he's even letting you try, considering you're the reason he's here." an eerie laugh escaping Myrah's lips as she spoke

"What is she talking about Jessie?" Sam asked accusingly.

"Nothing, Sam. She's just trying to get in your head." Jessie replied quickly. _Please, don't, Please._

"Ha! Nothing? You call using your power to force his brother to stay with you and leave Sam helpless and vulnerable to me, nothing? My dear child, if that is nothing, what do you call something?" Myrah's tone was rather playful. And seeing the look of sheer horror on the young man's face realized she was enjoying this game much more than she'd thought she would.

"Y-you almost got me killed! And D-dean he c-could be—Why? How?" Tears pooled in Sam's eyes and he blinked again and again to force them away. Never in his life had he felt so betrayed. _I trusted her. Dean trusted her._

"Don't worry about your brother. I took care of him." Rage surged through Sam at Myrah's malicious reply.

"What did you do to him? I'll kill you if you hurt him!"

"Now, don't get angry Sam. Remember this isn't my fault." Sam gritted his teeth at Myrah's patronizing tone.

"Myrah, please, just let him go. You can have me—my powers--if you want. Just let Sam and Dean go." Jessie bit her lip and prayed Myrah would take her up on her offer. She heard Sam telling her not to be stupid, but she ignored him. _It's the least I can do after everything I did to you and your brother._

"I don't want you. I want him." Myrah stated coolly. "But there is one thing you could do Jessie."

"What? I'll do anything." Jessie replied earnestly.

"Kill the brothers."

"No" Jessie stated defiantly.

"You don't have a choice. No one can resist us. But you already knew that." Myrah drew nearer to the young girl as she spoke, her tone forceful, commanding. **"Get the gun, Jessie"**

Jessie moved toward the weapons that Dean had left behind. Passing the abandoned rifle, ignoring it completely. Sam had told her what it contained. _Rock salt isn't gonna kill him._

Sam waited with bated breath. Jessie had moved from him, and he could make out Myrah's shape again. She didn't seem at all interested in torturing him anymore. But still refused to release him from the wall. He'd heard Myrah suggest that Jessie kill him and then sighed with relief at her defiant answer. But Jessie has fallen completely silent now and that frightened him to his core.

Jessie fingered the cool steel of the .45 in her hand and treaded back towards Sam, stopping a few feet in front of him. _I don't want to miss._

She watched as the man before her flinched as she cocked the gun. She shivered at the cool breath washed her neck and a voice whispered. **Kill him**

Jessie smirked and pulled the trigger.

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So...So...what'd ya think? haha...why do i get the feeling i dont wanna know! Obviously this one was Sam-centric. I thought it needed to be considering Dean's current state and the advancement of the story. So feel free to comment on that decision if you so choose and i continue to work on the next chapter where, i promise, dean will be in. Please R&R, like i said it really helps me...


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Dean worked to steady his breathing, taking in as much air as he possible could and exhaling slowly through his chattering teeth. It seemed an eternity since Myrah had left him, but the hellish torture her icy touch rendered was still ravaging his body. He was frigid, trembling as his body attempted to rid itself of the biting cold. Fresh tears beginning to fall as Myrah's last words came to him. He had failed, and Sam was to pay the price. More than that, there was nothing he could think of that would save his little brother—the last tangible remnant of true family he had. _I could try actually getting up off the floor…_

He moaned reluctantly as the thought hit him. Only because this wasn't a very pleasant thought. His sprawled form seemed to be under the impression it was glued to the floor and his brain had somehow managed a complete disconnect from the rest of him making it near impossible to move. The excruciating pain in his leg from Myrah's touch had faded leaving nothing but dull numbness replacing it and while Dean knew that wasn't a good sign, he thanked every saint and spiritual being he could think of for temporary relief

Dean gritted his teeth and dragged his heavy arms up above where his head lay. His arms burned as he pulled his elbows in towards him and worked to prop himself up on them. The simple act of doing so wore him out completely, and all his hard work amounted to void as his aching arms gave out on him and he met the floor once again. _I can't do this…_

"_**Can't isn't an excuse, You and I both know you're fully capable. So either do it or don't. There's no room for doubt when a situation demands action.**" _

Dean licked his dry cracked lips as the words of his father entered his mind. He remembered the exact moment his father had uttered those words, and absolutely everything about that night. He was 12 and Sam a mere 8. A simple hunt turned horrible and Sam had born the brunt of it all because he couldn't get there in time. He'd doubted his abilities and had told his father, in a rather harsh tone, explicitly what he thought he could do and what he knew he couldn't. That night had ended with his father telling him that if he couldn't protect his little brother at all costs, then he wasn't cut out to be a big brother.

The memory had never been fond for Dean, until now--the sharp words of an angry man offering encouragement and resolve within him. He deserved to be Sam's older brother; he was the best and only man for the job. And that job demanded his all, everything, regardless of the sacrifice—intense and crippling pain included. _I'm getting off this floor!_

He moved slowly, carefully, and finally succeeded after many a try to raise his upper half more than 2 inches off the ground supporting himself on his elbows. Dean was so elated to have reached his desired position that the faint distant scream almost eluded his ears. Almost.

The sound sent his mind into a full-fledged panic. _Was that Sam? Or Jessie? Oh, no…Myrah's got them…I have to hurry…have to get there in time…what if I don't make it? No, no…I'll make it. Hold on guys, I'm coming._

Dean bit down on his tongue hard, his raging adrenaline shadowing the pain accompanying every tiny movement and providing the energy to stand and move forward dragging his bad leg. The simple act of bending down to grab his gun proved harder and sent a shock wave of pain down his spine forcing him to double over. He fell forward but managed to send a hand out first and thus save himself from another nasty fall. The motion offered him an advantage as his hand was now on the floor and he quickly ran it against the wood floor toward his gun. He smirked when he felt the cool metal between his fingers. _You are so dead, bitch._

_-----------------------------------_

A stream of curses poured from Sam's mouth as the fiery metal pierced his flesh, the intense throbbing stemming from the upper part of his shoulder. It took a moment for him to realize that since he was indeed feeling the agonizing sting, he was very much alive. _She missed? Oh, God, she didn't kill me…she missed._

He winced as he felt the warm blood began to flood his shirt and wished more than anything he could see the initial damage. _Then again, maybe not._

"Oh, my God! Sam, Sam are you okay?" Jessie screamed hysterically as she watched the young man's shirt rapidly changing color as the blood seeped through the cotton. "What happened? What…" Jessie's body retched as she glanced down at the gun in her hand.

"Well, I must say…I'm disappointed in you, Jessie." Myrah stated. Her sickening laughter that followed encompassing the room.

"You made me do this!" Jessie yelled accusingly, whipping around to face down her enemy.

"Of course I did. Let's call it a little test. I had to know for certain I could make you obey. Next time, the boy won't be so lucky." Myrah's reply fused with pride and knowledge of her superiority.

"Like hell he won't! I have powers too you know! I can fight you!" Jessie was indignant. _Not again. You're not getting me again._

"I gave you those powers and you're not strong enough to refuse me." Myrah replied sharply, anger dripping off of every word. Jessie shrunk back at the sound of Myrah's voice and moved closer to Sam shielding him once again. Tears threatened to fall as she heard his labored breathing and felt him jerk back at her touch. _I'm sorry Sam._

"Let him go. Please, just take him off the wall. You don't have to let him leave, just let him down. Oh, God, I'm sorry…I'm so sorry." Jessie's words broke by sobs, guilt taking its hold on her.

"It's o-okay, J-Jessie. N-not your f-fault." Sam voiced weakly. He knew the battle Jessie was fighting all too well. He remembered Roosevelt all too vividly, he always would.

"I'll let him go, after you kill him. How's that sound?"

"I won't do it." Jessie screamed fiercely

"Yes, you will!" Myrah roared.

Sam could feel the wall vibrating beneath him as she spoke, jarring his shoulder and sending the searing pain rippling through him once again. In a way, he wanted it to all be over. It was one thing to not be able to see your death coming right at you, but an entirely different thing to be forced to listen to your impending demise over and over and simply waiting for it to occur. Sam's thoughts turned to his brother as the room regained it's former state of eerie silence. _He can't find me like this…bleeding pinned up against a wall. Too close to mom…too close_

---------------

Jessie found herself aiming the gun at Sam once again. Myrah's steely voice coaxing her into submission.

**Kill him Jessie. **

Jessie felt as if there were two of her. The one on the inside crying out for her to stop and other, her outer self, complying to Myrah's commands without a word. She watched helplessly as her finger began squeezing the trigger and willed herself to fight hard.

Her heart skipped a beat as her fingers trembled against the metal and felt she was succeeding until the sickening sound of a fatal bullet leaving its chamber filled her ears and her eyes witnessed his body fall lifeless, landing with a thud on the hard wooden floor.

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okays now some of you may find the whole jessie/myrah thing repetitive well...trust me ok?and yes, i know this isnt my best work but considering my current situation at the moment--this is a major accomplishment---so because its 2 in the morning if you find any major plot holes or anything like that---please bring it to my attention aside from me ending on a cliffie--have to make you guys come back! Okay is anyone else really mad at the WB for not airing SN? God, i sure am...but hey, it's definetly making all us writers work on our fics so i guess that's a plus!


	17. Chapter 17

Okay people. this is the last and final chapter of this story...sniff I really wanna thank all you guys you read and reviewed this fic. It's cool to know that you guys enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed writing it. So without further ado...the conclusion

oh, and the POVs jump around a little...you shouldnt have a problem following though...i dont think...lemme know if you did

Chapter 17

Sam heard the deafening click for the second time and shivered at the thought of his impending end, his body telling him to move, to survive, to fight; his mind demanding he stay calm and accept his fate. But he couldn't, not without some form of a struggle. Sam determined that if he was to go down, he was going down Winchester to the core, fighting like mad until death brought him to his knees.

His last and only hope was to break free of Myrah's hold. He twisted and shifted against the wall, gritting his teeth as his injured shoulder objected strongly to the rash jarring movements. As the seconds wore on, he continued but remained grounded to it nonetheless. _What's taking her so long? Just get it over with…_

Sam blinked his eyes furiously, ordering them to see something, anything he could use, but they blatantly refused him. In frustration and panic, he hurled obscenities and curses at Myrah and begged Jessie to not give up, pleading with her to wage war against Myrah's onslaught. All his efforts were quickly smothered with icy laughter and a frigid touch on his cheek bringing him to silence. His lips continued moving rapidly forming words that held no sound.

He stopped every action, finally accepting defeat. There was nothing left in the world to save him and this was how he'd meet his end--a bullet. He'd always imagined something more horrid, vile even—like being torn apart by a werewolf or pinned to a ceiling on fire, not with a bullet in his head. That was too common of a death for someone who lived their life fighting the evils of this world, battling demons and saving innocents.

The more he thought about it the more Sam realized he'd never dreamt his own death. He had Dean's, his father's, and countless other people. But he'd never seen his, only imagined it. He wished he had. Sam thought about what his funeral would look like, whom among his friends would show up and whether or not his father would set a foot near his plot. He wondered if Dean would remember to place him next to Jess or as close as he could to her, he was sure his brother would. He'd saved him that day from yet another fire, and rescued him from a world of despair. _Dean's always there for me. Always._

Sam's world shifted that instant. Dean had never failed him in the past, but he'd failed him now. He needed his brother more than anything and he wasn't anywhere to be found. Sam contemplated as to whether or not Dean was elsewhere in the house still searching, completely oblivious to his current plight, or maybe he was in some random room of the house alone and unconscious from pain and rapid blood loss, or worse yet—dead. Sam begged the heavens to save his brothers life. _Dean deserves a normal life…and dad won't be able to take losing both of us. Dad…I'm never gonna get a chance to see him again…_

He shoved the remorse concerning his father away, and drifted to the past week. All the angry, hateful things he'd said that would never be resolved. There'd be no chic flick moment aside from his brother kneeling alone in front of his grave, their issues remaining unspoken even in death. He knew everything wasn't Dean's fault, and he hoped that Dean knew it too. _He will cause he knows how much I hate to be "mothered". He'll remember that._

A smirk came to his lips as Sam recalled the hundreds of moments in the past six months alone when Dean had treated him like a helpless child instead of the twenty-two year old man he'd become. Dean always putting him before himself and saving him over and over again, but through all his fervent protesting to his older brother's wild antics and crazy rescues, Dean continued to insist he had to take care of him because it was his job, it would always be his job. _Not for long bro…C'mon, just do it._

He smiled, a real smile, as the sound of gunfire resonated, signaling his departure from the land of the living, ushering him into the world that had separated his mother and lover from him for too long, but no more. He sensed Myrah's hold ceasing, as his body began sliding down meeting the floor with a thud, a sudden flash of white appeared and vanished as the sound of a women's shrill shriek echoed in his ears as he gave into the darkness.

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Jessie stood frozen, mouth open, eyes wide, burning as salty tears poured from them as she gaped at the site before her. She waited to hear Myrah's voice praising her for the heinous act she'd committed in her weakness, but was greeted with silence.

She tore her gaze from the young man and forced herself to look upon the cause of his state. Her body shook as she glanced down at the trigger through pools of unshed tears. Jessie cocked her head slightly to the side when she noted the position her finger held on the trigger a gasp escaping her lips.

It hadn't moved. The trigger remained at the same half way position it had held when she'd begun to challenge and battle Myrah's hold on her mind, her index finger holding steadily to it. Jessie's breaths came in rapid succession as she flung the gun to the floor and brought her shaking hand to her face, placing it over her mouth. _It's not possible…He's on the floor and he's not moving…Myrah's just playing with me again…I heard the shot…I heard it…_

Jessie stiffened as a succession of thuds from behind her filled her ears followed by a gravely voice but in her haze she couldn't make it's message. _Myrah?…no, this voice…this voice is different…_

Jessie turned slowly around to face the sound, preparing herself for the worst. She inhaled sharply as she viewed the source, fresh tears running down her face, but these were not tears of fear and guilt, these were tears of overwhelming relief and joy.

"Oh my God! Dean!" She cried out, running over to the man slumped over the stairwell, his head lolling to the side as he tried to bring his eyes to hers.

"S-sam." Jessie nodded knowingly and went to help Dean make it down the rest of the stairs and over to his brother.

----------------------------------

Dean stumbled out of the room slowly, breathing heavily, and thanked whatever powers above that there—no more than 4 feet away was the banister. He sighed in relief and practically fell forward as he quickly tried to grasp his newfound support. With one hand tightly clutched to the rail and the other with a secure grip on his rifle, he trudged forward with one thing on his mind. _Sam._

When Dean reached the top of the main stairs and looked down to the foyer below, he thought for sure he'd have another heart attack. Myrah's spirit lurking over Jessie, who for some reason, more than likely Myrah, was pointing a gun at his little brother, who appeared to be extremely calm. _That kid needs some serious therapy._

Dean swallowed the growing lump in his throat as he saw Jessie's fingers moving towards the trigger. With rapid speed, he shouldered his rifle, aimed and fired for the white orb that had caused him and his brother so much pain. He smiled as a chilling scream filled the air and a blinding white flashed throughout the room and disappeared. He'd hit his mark.

The smile was wiped off his face when he heard his brother's body connect with the floor. _I gotta get down there._

Dean braced himself against the banister and started down the flight of stairs. His bad leg falling heavily against the wood as he went. He'd almost reached his destination when the combined pain of all his past movements reached a climax. He gripped the banister firmly and willed himself not to collapse. Not yet.

He heard her voice filled with relief and happiness to see him and tried to focus on her, but his eyes locked with his brothers still form. He muttered his name and felt her arm slip around his waist and her placing his arm over her shoulders.

The distance between him and his brother seemed that of a gaping chasm to Dean, and had it not been for Jessie's support, he honestly didn't think he would have made it.

Jessie released her hold on him when they reached Sam. Dean slumped down to the floor, and ran his fingers through his brothers hair, grimacing as his eyes met the crimson stain that covered his brother's worn tee.

"S-sammy?" Dean worked himself into a sitting position and tried to pull Sam towards him. Jessie looked on and went to help but he pushed her away and continued stroking his younger brother's hair. "Sammy, please wake up."

"Mmm…Dean?" Sam's eyes fluttered open and he moved his head slowly trying to locate his brother. He felt Dean's hand caress his chin and gently nudge his face to side, and Sam didn't doubt he was now looking into his brother's eyes. "I—I'm not…"

"No." Dean stated abruptly. He didn't even want to think about what would've happened if he hadn't gotten off that floor.

"Myrah…what happened?" Sam asked, and Dean could feel his body tensing.

"Don't worry, Sammy. I took care of her." Dean spoke softly.

"It—It's Sam. And I knew you would." The words were accompanied with a lop-sided grin and Dean couldn't help but smile back.

----------------------------

2 weeks later….

A knock sounded from the hotel door--3 knocks, a pause, followed by 2 more. Sam smiled. Dean was back, and the best part was he had food with him. Sam fought to stifle his laughter when he opened the door and saw his brother fighting with his crutches trying desperately not to drop the coke bottles while maintaining his hold on the take out bags and trying to move forward all at the same time.

"What you laughing at, four eyes? I'm a wounded man, here." Dean's snide remarks only made Sam laugh harder as he went to grab the bags and drinks from Dean.

He set the bags down on the coffee table and pushed his slipping glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He hated those things, well, not the glasses as much as Dean's constant torment over the fact he had to wear them. He had reason too, the things were so damn thick, but they let him see and that was something he would never curse. The doctors still declared him legally blind, but also had said that his chances of regaining his full sight were good as long as he didn't put too much strain on his eyes. So he'd decided he'd wear as many pairs of glasses they would give him in hopes that one day he wouldn't ever have to use them again.

Dean regained his balance on his crutches and made his way into the room. He smirked when he saw Sam fiddling with his glasses and he worked to set out the food. Dean set his crutches upright against the wall next to his bed and collapsed onto the bed. He thought he must've looked really beat, 'cause Sam made his way over to him and helped prop him up against the headboard, and placed some pillows under his cast leg to keep it elevated as the doctor had suggested. Sam went back to unwrapping the food and Dean set about studying his cast for the thousandth time since the doctor had put it on. The doctors had told him they had to fuse his bone with metal and screws to reform his leg into the proper shape. Dean had asked if it would set off any metal detectors, Sam looked at him as if he was crazy and the doctor shrugged and told him it's happened. That was enough to put a huge smug grin on Dean's face as he informed Sam that he would never have to step foot on a plane again.

"Dean, you got onion rings. I told you to get fries!" Sam complained as he dug through the greasy paper bag.

"Yeah, so? You called Dad on me. Only fair." Sam turned to face Dean, his jaw clenched.

"I called Dad on you cause you left me here—alone." Sam stated bitterly.

"Yeah, well, you were acting like an asshole" Dean shot back.

"I was scared Dean. Terrified." Sam's voice held a hint of emotion as he plopped down on the bed avoiding Dean's gaze.

"Of what, Sammy?" Dean asked slowly not sure if he really wanted to know or enter this impending Oprah moment.

"Not knowing if I would ever see anything ever again, and all I had for the rest of my life was darkness. If I'd made you so mad you wouldn't come back and then something bad happened to you because I pushed you away." Sam's bottom lip was quivering and Dean could see tears brimming in his eyes.

"I'm never going to leave you like that, Sam." He stated firmly, shifting over closer to Sam and bringing his hand to Sam's chin, forcing his little brother to make eye contact with him. Dean's heart broke as Sam lifted his head, his big brown eyes moist beneath the thick glass.

"I know." Sam whispered dropping his gaze once again.

"Good. Now, if you aren't going to eat those onion rings, I will. So hand them over." Sam smiled as he stretched his long arms over towards the table and grabbed the bags of food, tossing them on the bed.

"Dean?" he asked passing him a burger.

"Yeah?" Dean replied absently, his attention focused on finding the remote.

"Don't you ever want to leave sometimes? You know when I really make you mad." Sam posed the question quietly.

"No." Dean's reply quick.

"Why not?" Sam's brown eyes wide as he stared at his older brother.

"'Cause I have to make sure you're ok no matter what. Regardless if I want to kill you or not. It's my job, Sammy. A job I like, trust me." Dean answered purposefully. His eyes roaming the comforter scanning the food spread haphazardly over it, his gaze landing on a bag of Peanut M & Ms, shooting a warning glance at Sam before turning back towards the TV.

"You eat those—you die."

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threw the epilogue in causei had some people ask about it...and well, not quite sure how it turned out but you know...so if you guys wouldnt mind letting me know what you thought about this chapter or the story--doesnt matter that would be great...so click on the little button and send me a line! I'm gonna miss this one!


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